Cold blood
by DerLaCroix
Summary: Sometimes, the tide of events really changes a person.
1. A bad day

**Disclaimer:** My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold blood**

By LaCroix

**Intro - A bad day**

Madam Pomfrey was having a bad day. Her nerves were still frayed from the worry she had endured after the last message announced the impending death of a student. Thank Merlin Mister Potter had somehow managed to rescue Miss Weasley while killing Slytherin's beast. They both were here in the hospital wing, under influence of a mild calming draught. As usual, Mister Potter had managed to accumulate the most injuries.

Her musings were interrupted by a trill. Looking up from cleaning potion flasks, she noticed that Fawkes was still sitting at Mister Potters bedside. Since the mythical bird had brought the kids and Professor Lockhart, he hadn't left there. Right now, Fawkes repeatedly bumped his head against Harry's right upper arm, and then looked at the Nurse. He repeated that motion, and trilled again. Finally, the Nurse relented and went over to check the arm.

With a complicated wave of her wand, a representation of the cartilage and the bone manifested above the sleeping boy. With a well-practiced eye she looked over it, finding nothing out of the ordinary. A second later, her brow furrowed for a moment and she gave a wave at an area which seemed slightly off, magnifying it.

"Oh, there!" She muttered as she saw it. There was a small puncture in the bone where he had been bitten.

"Thank you, Fawkes. I would have missed that for sure." With a few flicks and waves, she cast a bone knitting charm at this. "That's it, done!" She exclaimed, and corrected her prognosis to an overnight stay for observation and a return to class after breakfast.

Only complicated fractures would have called for a bone removal and Skele-grow. The bone-knitting charm would liquefy the bone for half a second, make it intermix and then re-solidify. Of course, the result was not a natural, porous bone, but a very dense material. But it worked and Mother Nature would replace all that bone that area within a few years, anyway.

That charm took care of the puncture and the tiny cracks around it in a second, and Pomfrey shot Fawkes a smile, thanked him, and left to report to the headmaster. The bird kept staring at her until she left, still trilling frantically, but Pomfrey didn't listen. It gave a last, frantic screech just before the matron left, but she was already mentally wording her report to the Headmaster, and didn't notice.

Fawkes took a last, long look at the boy in the bed, and with something akin to a shrug, it jumped up and disappeared in a fireball.

By eight o' clock next evening, Harry Potter was back in his dorm.

By eight thirty, all spiders had abandoned Gryffindor Tower.

**_******_  
**

**AN:**

DerLaCroix cackled insanely as he looked at what he had just done. He finally had reached the divine epitome of cruelty - posting a text that was nothing but a cliff-hanger.

He smiled at the idea of the pain this would cause the minions, until a stray thought stopped his good mood.

_How am I going to top this?_

_*****  
_

This is a premature post to tide you over the lack of updates in RTB, where because of this pesky thing called real life, there will be a slight derivation from posting schedule. Also, I am currently only able to upload files in *.html format instead of the *.doc files I used to do, which is annoying like hell, because it eats all the dialogue apostrophes. Sadly, the support staff doesn't reply to my mails, so I don't know how long this will take.

This fiction will be updated from time to time, as it is currently shy over the 24k words mark and evolving into something bigger while RTB grows like cancer.


	2. Do not meddle with the affairs

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 1: Do not meddle with the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup.**

_FWOSH_ – he felt a wave of heat somewhere behind his back as he ran for cover.

_Harry jumped onto the troll's back, trying to save Hermione from being smeared against a wall._

_SLAM_– the rock he was hiding behind trembled from the hard impact.

_Hermione lying to Professor McGonagall to get him and Ron out of trouble._

_FWOOOOSH_ – A long jet of flame licked across the rock, and its temperature became unbearable.

_Hermione setting Snape on fire to help Harry._

_ROAR!_ – The dragon saw Harry running for a different hiding place, and voiced its disapproval.

_Hermione still believing in him, even as the rest of the students thought he would eat them alive as the heir of Slytherin._

_FWOSH _– A well-aimed jet of flame cut off Harry's path, leaving him no other choice than to throw himself backwards, lest he be grilled.

_Hermione running off to the library, alone, to figure out a clue only she would get._

_SLAM-SLAM _– The spiked tail tried to squish him onto the rocky ground; he rolled quickly out of the way, avoiding both strikes.

_Hermione petrified, just a small, lost figure in a bed as he visited with her. And still, she had the solution in her hand._

_FWOOOOOOSH _– A fierce, nearly bluish flame was scorching a line into the ground while Harry frantically skittered over to the safety of another rock.

_Hermione running at him and hugging him,hard, shouting "You solved it! You solved it!"_

_CRUSH _– Some fine dust fell upon the heavily panting Harry as nearly a third of the rock was ripped off by a powerful strike of the dragon's tail.

_Hermione turning his broom in, to protect him from Sirius Black._

_Hermione getting him away from Were-Remus._

_Hermione going back in time with him to save Sirius._

_Hermione pressing herself against him while riding Buckbeak._

_Hermione hugging him as they left for Kings Cross._

_FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH _– A relentless continuous flame started melting the dragon's side of the rock, letting a small puddle of lava accumulate at the foot of the rock.

_Hermione staying by his side when even Ron didn't believe him._

_Hermione helping him plan a strategy for first task and practicing with him relentlessly._

"Isn't it funny what thoughts run through your head while you're dodging an angry dragon?" Harry spoke to no one particular as he, again, jumped behind a different rock, while the Hungarian Horntail was still busying itself melting the previous one.

While the audience still was up in stitches seeing the vicious dragon dismantle the arena, trying to get Harry - who had had only enough time to cast a single spell between entering and the first attack - the same boy was anxiously counting the seconds until his broom's arrival. Fifteen so far; and half of the arena was already pulverized or melted to slag.

A summoning from over more a mile was no small feat, and even if it had worked - _'Stop thinking like that!'_ he heard Hermione's voice scolding him in his mind – and the dragon didn't incinerate the broom before Harry got a grip on it - _'Honestly, Harry! Why do you always have to be that negative?'_ - it would take the broom some time to fly that distance, leaving Harry to dodge a dragon while waiting and scanning the sky.

Just as Harry frantically scuttled up a rockslide to avoid a spiked tail swinging in his general direction, he spotted his trusted Firebolt making the descent from the arena walls towards him. He had no time to gracefully catch it, as he was forced to hurl himself at it, off the small heap of stones he just climbed, to avoid a jet of fire aimed at precisely the spot he was standing on a few fractions of a second earlier.

Though his back was aching from exposure to the immense heat, he managed to get the broom under himself and shoot into the relative safety of the sky, just in time before he would have smashed into the rocks that were 12 feet below him.

"What a daring move! Potter has summoned his broom and is trying to out-fly a dragon, ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's voice echoed across the arena.

'_I bet tomorrow's papers will depict it as an act of reckless bravery and showing off, instead of a simple saving my ass moment,'_ he thought as he gained altitude and speed, both essential to avoid attending dinner as a dragon's main course, evading a jet of flame like he would have dodged a Bludger.

He circled the dragon for a while, trying to find an in. He swooped in and out, but the dragon stayed put, and protected her eggs with her body, crouching low above the rocky nest, glaring at him with her vertically slitted pupils, and twitching her big, leathery wings.

She gave him a short burst of fire every now and then, but he was just too fast, too annoying, and she was itching to give chase, which Harry counted on. Their plan - with which, of course, Hermione had helped - depended on the dragon's aggression overwhelming her motherly instincts. So he continued imitating a gnat on a hot summer night.

_** ********_

Finally, as he passed the dragon in a relatively low pass, it happened. She reared on her hind legs, trying to snatch him out of the air. She missed him by a few inches, her deadly jaws ripping a big chunk out of his robes, making him spin out of control for a moment.

When he regained control, he noticed two things: First, he was headed roughly at the dragon's nest, and therefore the dragon itself, at high speed now, which would be bad. But also, the dragon had thrown herself into her chain to get him, which probably had saved his life, but now she was straining against it, which held her up and opened a gap between her and her nest.

Seeker instincts took control, and he sped down at the golden egg, ignoring Hermione's voice screaming bloody murder in his head at this, reaching it exactly when the dragon slammed herself back onto the ground.

A gasp went through the arena, but this very second Harry emerged at the other side, holding the egg in his hand, and the gasp turned into a cheer!

"He did it!" Bagman proclaimed, his S_onorus_-enhanced voice only barely heard over the cheer in the arena. "Harry Potter, the youngest champion finished the first task in the shortest time. My, my, that will surely change the odds!" He concluded, thus declaring the task finished. Too bad the dragon didn't understand English.

The Dragon handlers had stood in awe, applauding over Harry's skill with his broom. Only now, they came to their senses and made their way into the the arena to subdue the beast. It turned out being too late,as the Dragon took his last chance to lash out with its tail, this time connecting with Harry - who had been relieved and daft enough to do a victory lap - and throwing him into the arena walls. The audience went silent for a short moment before panic set in. Screams sounded across the stadium as Harry dropped to the sound with a meaty thump, the golden egg rolling away slowly.

_*********_

Poppy Pomfrey was irate. "Dragons! Why by Merlin's hairy ass did they have to use dragons!" she yelled as the broken body of Potter was levitated into her makeshift hospital tent. "Stupid! So stupid! He had already completed the task, unharmed even, and then those damned handlers slept on their job!" Furiously muttering under her breath, she went to stabilize the poor boy as good as she could.

After a few charms, she let a sigh escape her lips. It wasn't half as bad as she had expected. He had a concussion and bruises, and the worst injury was a broken tail spike of the dragon, sticking out of his right upper arm.

A few seconds and charms later, she became aware that it was in fact embedded firmly into the bone. Her summoning spells just weren't strong enough to free it. Sighing, she conjured some ropes and boards onto the bed to immobilize the boy and stripped off her confining outer robes.

A minute of hefty twisting and pulling later, she had extracted the spike. Of course, she had given the poor boy some heavy sedation already. She didn't fancy working through the screams of a patient, especially one she actually liked.

While closing the wound, she got distracted by another stretcher being levitated into her tent, and, noticing the bushy hair, nearly absent-minded cast the bone mending charm at the boy's arm before turning towards her new, unconscious patient.

_*********_

Fate is a fickle thing. Ignoring the absurd probability, the spike of dragon bone had pierced exactly the same spot as the basilisk tooth did, nearly two years earlier. Pomfrey had not checked the spike, and being distracted, she forgot to summon for eventual fragments after the necessarily manual extraction.

A small piece of dragon bone was still in there, and her bone knitter mended it with human bone.

That might not have been that bad, if it hadn't been for that minuscule, long encapsulated amount of basilisk venom the spike had punctured.

Being busy checking the unconscious Miss Granger for the cause, and putting some ointment onto the bloody nail-marks the girl had inflicted onto her own cheeks, Pomfrey never noticed Harry convulsing silently for a few seconds behind her back.

_*********_

**AN:**

DerLaCroix was peeved. This was the third time he tried to make himself some snake-men minions, but no matter how much snake poison he injected them, they only died, but none of them transformed. Embirsiphonelilathia had already told him that this was the last batch of minions she would provide. While she liked cruel killings as much as the next girl, it was getting repetitive.

PLOT TWIST-CLIFFY-COMBO!

Come on, people. Why should Harry turn into a basilisk by getting bitten? It's a basilisk, not some vampire or werewolf. I have to work a bit more to make things believable - you don't turn into a Cobra by being bitten, either.

Also, basilisks are lame. Huge snakes with killing eyes. Meh... What is it good for to have eyes that kill everything you look at? "Here's looking at you, cutie!" isn't any fun if you kill the girl by accidentally slipping your glasses. How do you have sex with such eyes? Also, you guys forget that if a basilisk looks at you through shaded glasses (or a camera, or a reflective surface), it petrifies you. So Harry would need electronic goggles or whatnot. And before he found out what happened to him, he would probably have killed Ron(not that this would bother me) and/or Hermione (which I do not want) by accident.

I was tempted to write a small fic where Harry is to stand in front of his bathroom mirror for eternity because he forgot about the eyes, and no one is brave enough to look after him when he doesn't show up.

I bet you can think what my opinion of Cyclops is...

Rant:  
I am a bit peeved at the movie depiction. The book clearly said it had front legs, and a spiked tail, not this Nazghul thing they made for the movie. Maybe they shared the CGI department with Lord of the Rings to save money.


	3. Did anyone get the number of that dragon

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 2: Did anyone get the number of that dragon?**

When Harry woke up, he felt like his whole body had been bludgeoned by, well, a dragon. Harry knew where he was before he had opened his eyes. The familiar smell of potions and very clean linen indicated that he was in the infirmary. After a moment, he realized that there was another, faint smell in the air. It was familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

He slowly went through a series of checks he had started back in his cupboard, every time when he awoke after being beaten unconscious. '_Legs? Fine. Arms? Right one sore, left one fine. Chest? Burns like hell. Neck fine. Headache? You bet.' _His head pounded like mad, especially his eyes, they felt like someone was pushing a needle into them from the inside of his skull.

After his initial check was completed, he slowly opened his eyes, and blinked in the sudden painful brightness. As soon as he had stirred, Madam Pomfrey was bustling over to his bed. Harry was sure she had a charm or something on the bed to notify her.

To him, it was annoying that she always knew when he was awake and immediately began questioning and berating him and, worst of all, dosing him liquefied guano, deducing from the taste of it. Just once, he would like to be able to completely connect to his surroundings before being assaulted again.

Of course, the first thing she did was giving him a potion. Smelling it already from six feet away, Harry had identified it as a pain potion before she had said a word. He had to fight the sudden urge to growl at her.

He was mildly surprised that it didn't taste as bad as it smelled and even more delighted when it was the only potion for him. At least for now.

"Harry?"

Turning to his right, he saw an outline of a figure in a bed across the room. The brown blob sounded a lot like Hermione.

"Hermione? Is that you?" he tried to confirm his guess with squinted eyes.

"Yes, Harry. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" he answered, while he unsuccessfully fondled for his glasses on the nightstand.

"Coming from you, that could mean everything from being healthy to crippled, but alive," she retorted, which caused a tiny snort to escape the Healer, earning her Hermione's attention. Hermione didn't waste a moment to ask the first question. "What happened?"

"Well, long story short, Miss Granger, while Mr. Potter did his usual death-defying things, you seem to have fainted or were knocked unconscious. You had a lump on the back of your head, but I can't say if it was the result or cause of your fall. Mister Potter here," the matron avoided the looming interruption, and waved in the direction of her other patient.

"He received a light concussion, some cuts, a pierced arm and that stupid egg. You, Miss Granger, were carried into the tent where I was tending to his injuries, about when I was finishing his treatment. After I had examined you, both of you were then put into the hospital wing. You both woke just a few minutes ago. So, if you would excuse me, I'll go and eat dinner; you will have yours sent up by a house-elf in about one hour, when the potions have settled. I expect to be back long before that. Behave, and I will have you back in class by tomorrow morning," she concluded, and left for the Great Hall.

For a few seconds there was silence, until Harry broke it.

"How are you doing? Do you know what happened?"

"I'm fine," she said, and Harry snorted as she used 'his' line.

"Hey! I can use it and mean it! It's you who uses it for 'I'm still alive', Mister Potter!" she scolded him in return, but her tone told Harry that she actually was amused. He could hear a faint trace of giggling in it.

It didn't last long, and silence reigned again. But not complete silence. Harry could hear a faint repeated sniffling.

"Are you crying?" he asked in concern, in the direction of the brown blob across the room.

Hermione jerked up into a sitting position. She in fact had curled up and given in to tears, but she was sure that she had kept them silent. "No! Of course not!" she shouted, not wanting him to notice.

Harry took a deep sigh. "I can not only hear that you are lying, I can practically smell your tears," he said, and took another short whiff of air. "And someone has placed a basket of peaches somewhere in here. It smells nice, better that the usual hospital wing scents," he finished.

Hermione took a good look around. There were a lot of things in the hospital wing, but no fruit basket. Not even flowers. "But, there aren't any peaches in here. You must be mistaken," she answered, while she was subtlety drying her tears.

"Not? Strange, the smell is getting stronger by the minute. But quit changing the topic, Hermione. What's wrong with you?"

Hermione wanted to hide it from him, staying strong, but when heard his voice, her memories surged once again, and she broke down with long, hard sobs. Harry instantly rushed over and embraced her. She clung to him like a lifeline while hot tears ran down her cheeks and into his pyjamas. He awkwardly patted her back and let her cry, hoping he could do more and unknowingly doing the best he could.

"I... I... I nearly lost... you nearly died," she sobbed, digging deeper into his chest, digging her fingers painfully into his back. Harry resisted the urge to hiss in pain, and instead began to rock her gently, trying to ease the pain a bit by calming her.

"If you, if you had..." she began anew, but again interrupted herself with a burst of sobs. "I don't have anybody else, no one!" she cried. "I'd be alone... again…" she stammered between sobs.

"No, not alone," Harry cooed, "there's Ron, and Ginny, and..." he said, trying to soothe her.

"But they're not YOU!" she choked out, and hugged him so hard that he saw stars blinking in his view. He refrained from commenting, not for being that wise, but for not being able to breathe sufficiently, and just held her until her death-grip lessened. But for some reason, he felt elated at her outburst.

While she continued crying into his shoulder, he finally noticed that it was her who was smelling of peaches, especially her hair. Filing that thought for later, he concentrated on consoling his friend, and soon, her weeps diminished.

"I know, but still, you won't be alone," he told her while petting her soft hair.

She gave a snort in response. "Sure. Ron only tolerates me because of you, and Ginny is only talks to me because I'm a friend of Ron and you. As soon as you are gone, Ron will be gone, too - and Ginny will turn to her own friends. And I'll be alone."

Realization hit him like a Bludger. Deep inside, he knew that she was right. Ginny only orbited around the three of them, and had lots of friends her age. And Ron, well, he was Ron. Last year he refused to speak to her because of his rat, which turned out to be Pettigrew, anyway, but he even went on a crusade against her because of Harry's broomstick.

And now, he wasn't on talking terms with both of them, because he thought himself betrayed by Harry's presumed lie about the goblet, and because Hermione believed in Harry. He could easily see him abandoning Hermione, except when he needed her help with homework. In a sudden burst of anger, he vowed that he would take care of that, and her.

Not wanting to confirm her suspicion, he hugged her hard, and then leaned a bit back. Putting his index finger under her chin, he raised her head to look in her face. She was a mess, but a cute one. Her hair was a fright, her eyes puffy and red, like her running nose. Her lips were a quivering pout as she tried not to meet his eyes.

He softly wiped her eyes, and on a sudden impulse, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. As she stared at him in shock, he caressed her cheek and whispered to her.

"Then I'll have to stay around for you, won't I?"

Hermione continued staring flustered at him, trying to match his behaviour with the Harry she used to know, and drawing blanks all along.

Harry chuckled at her, and caressed a tress of her hair behind her ear. "You look cute like this," he commented.

For a second, she smiled her thank at him, but then she suddenly went rigid. "Where are your glasses?"

He waved his hand at his bed and nightstand. "Oh, they're over there. I just didn't..."

For a few seconds, Harry looked at his outstretched hand. His three feet remote, but perfectly visible hand. He turned it one way, then the other, and then brought it closer, looking at the texture of his skin, his fingerprints. Only then he raised his head and took a look around. While he couldn't see the other side of the infirmary clearly, his bed was in sharp focus. A few minutes ago, he was barely able to make out Hermione on her bed, and now, he could see halfway across the room! In retrospection, he never before had been able to see anything more than three feet apart! Something strange was going on.

"My eyes..." he stammered, facing Hermione again. "I can... see! But..."

"How?" she completed.

"Are you asking me?" Harry stammered. "You are the genius in the room, remember?"

"Honestly, Harry," she scolded. "I don't know. Maybe something has happened when you were hurt, some kind of side effect of a concussion. Did Pomfrey check your head? Is there something else off with your senses? Vertigo? You mentioned a smell," Hermione began talking in rapid fire mode, signalling an incoming panic attack.

"No, that was your shampoo - I can smell it in your hair now." Harry tried to calm her, only managing the opposite, as Hermione gasped.

"But that was yesterday evening! And you could smell it from across the room!" she nearly screamed at him, before she stopped and took a deep breath, placating her self with hand gestures, trying to regain her composure.

"Ok, no need to panic, no need to panic, it's not bad, isn't it? Your senses are a bit heightened, that's not bad, it's actually rather good, especially your eyes. I mean, honestly, you can see, and that great, especially for the tournament," she started rambling, her inner panic creeping into her words, but fell silent once Harry embraced her again.

"It's alright, it's alright, everything will turn out fine," he whispered as he rocked her gently.

Everything in Hermione screamed that this wasn't the Harry she was used to, but a small and very insistent voice kept telling her to _'shut the fuck up and enjoy the moment!'_

By the time Pomfrey returned, his eyesight had improved to the point that he could see her from across the length of the infirmary.

Before Madam Pomfrey had properly entered the room, she already was addressed, or to be frank, verbally assaulted by Hermione, who overeagerly explained the situation.

To Pomfrey's credit, she took this in stride. Honestly, after all those years in Hogwarts, she had become jaded. She only paused a second as Harry demanded that she should check what happened but insisted that she did not remove it. The demand baffled her a bit, especially how insistent the normally pliable boy was, until she remembered that this patient had positive symptoms, for a change.

_**ooOOoo**_

"As I told you apart from the concussion, the healed arm wound and some cuts, you are all right. There are some bruises coming out on your back, but they can be dealt with a salve," the burly matron said after she had once again given her most frequent patient an extensive wand-over.

"But that isn't possible," Hermione insisted. "He has gone from blind as a bat to perfect vision and can follow a trace like a Crup, that isn't normal!"

"Thanks, I think," Harry chuckled at her outburst, and laughed out loud as Hermione blushed and gave him a contrite look

Nonetheless, even an extensive scan brought up nothing. Since Harry was fine, actually even better than normal, she just declared it as a strange side-effect of the concussion, but instructed him to notify her as soon as there was a change or he was feeling off. In order to not cause too much ruckus in case of it being just temporary, Hermione transfigured a copy with plain glass lenses.

The next day, both of them were released for breakfast. The walk to Great Hall showed that his days would be easier from now on.

First, most of the "Potter stinks" badges were gone, only Malfoy and his Slytherins were still wearing them. Harry decided to ignored them for now, but was sure to make a mental list of each and every person who was or had been sporting a badge.

Second, Harry and Hermione were thick as ever. Something had changed between them, but neither of them wanted to acknowledge it, at least now. Sure, they walked a bit closer than usual, but they did so all year long, ever since Harry was isolated after Halloween.

They sat at their usual spot at the table, right next to Ginny, who greeted them enthusiastic.

"Hey, you two! You really scared us out there. First Harry gets smashed by that dragon and then you got knocked out in the commotion, Hermione. Nobody knows who exactly had hit you, as everybody was jumping up at the same time, there was so much pushing and shoving."

"Yeah," Neville interjected, "I nearly got thrown into the arena by some Hufflepuffs behind me. Barely grabbed a hold in time," he shivered.

"Yeah, got some bruises, too" Fred quipped in, and George continued, "So don't be ashamed, Hermione, that could have happened to anybody."

"By the way,"

"Great job, Harry,"

"Being tied for second with Diggory is no small feat,"

"Considering that you are two years behind him!"

Finishing their daily show of twin-pong, the twins set off for Jordan and the Chaser girls, leaving confusion and well hidden pranks in their wake.

While Harry and Hermione started filling their plates, Ron flopped himself down in the space the twins had vacated, and immediately shovelled a lot of food first on his plate and subsequently into his face. Harry was surprised that Ron would even sit with him, but didn't want to stir up a fight.

Sometime between bites, Ron acknowledged Harry's presence and addressed him. His first try was unintelligible, even to the trained ears of his year mates.

After a huge swallow, Ron tried again. "I said that I believe you now, Harry," he said.

"Oh really? Why that? Why now?" Harry answered, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, I reckoned that whoever had put your name in the goblet was trying to do you in," Ron answered, as if it would explain everything, not bothering to stop eating his breakfast while talking.

"Well, Ron - to me," Harry began, making a wide gesture around, "and I believe anyone else at this table - that doesn't quite make sense. Why do you suddenly believe that I didn't put my name in?" he finished, getting a lot of nods from the people around him.

Ron reacted like usual when under pressure. "Hey, no need to be nasty about it. I came around, didn't I?" he snapped.

"And now you expect me to just say to forget it and go back to business as usual?" Harry asked innocently. Ginny and Hermione both cringed at his voice. They knew how Ron would react to this, and how Harry's reply would be. They used that trick often enough on dear old Ron.

"Of course mate!" Ron grinned. "I knew you wouldn't make a big thing about it. So, best mates again?" he asked, glad to sweep everything under the rag, ignoring his mistakes.

This only cemented Harry's resolve. If Ron had been humble about it, he might have gone along, but not like that.

Harry stared at his plate for a second, before huffing once and looking at Ron. "Ron, forget it. And I mean that best mate thing. You see, I still want to be your friend, but for a best mate, I would need trust in you, and frankly, I lost it. Can you understand that?"

Harry had thought that he would feel regret while voicing this, but he didn't. He felt calm and secure in his decision, like it was the only logical way. Ron's eventual hurt didn't factor in this, at all. He felt grateful for Hermione's hand sneaking into his, but while he approved of her support, he didn't need it.

"But... But... Fine!" Ron yelled, and stood up abruptly. "Be like that!" he spat.

Harry had raised a hand. "Ron! Just one more thing - I don't do second chances. Think about that."

With a final huff, Ron stormed off, not even finishing breakfast. Harry sighed again and returned his attention to his plate. After a few seconds he noticed something being off. He raised his head and saw everybody gaping at him. Carefully swallowing, he asked an eloquent "What?"

"No second chances?" Ginny inquired. "You? What happened?" she stammered. Hermione nodded energetically.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I think Pettigrew happened. It's just that I have enough of people hating me one day and then turning around and behave like everything was fine all the time the next. I've learned a lesson from the dragon. If you don't finish things properly, it'll turn around and bite you in your ass… "

"Harry! Language!"

"Sorry, Hermione."

"You learned from the dragon?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, it gave me some good advice. When I had gotten the egg, it could just have let it go and concentrate on protecting the rest, but it made sure that I wouldn't do it again. It's a new approach that appeals to me and I want to try it. Do things right the first time, don't hesitate. You know, it sounds like a fortune cookie," he finished with a laugh, but only Hermione understood and gave him a small grin.

_**ooOOoo**_

That evening, Harry sent a letter to Sirius, of course containing a blow-by-blow recount of the first task and a short note about his improved senses. Harry had wanted to use a school owl for security reasons, but in the end had to use Hedwig, since every other owl relocated to another perch at his approach, and after a few tries, all other owls decided simultaneously that they urgently needed to go hunting right then.

The following days, Ron kept moping, which Harry ignored, and joined Hermione in her studies, just like before the task. One thing he noticed was how far he was behind her in his studies, mostly due to his permanent goofing off with Ron. Noticing that his life could depend on it - literally this time, he buckled down and studied. After having studied for days to get the summoning charm down, he knew that he was able to study if needed, so he could do this. Also, doing his assignments with Hermione caused him to be finished earlier than usual, to boot.

The bruises on his back healed up quickly, and soon, he was back to full mobility. The scar on his arm was a bit more noticeable, but he had worse.

His senses remained sharpened and even improved further. His vision was now 20/20, a thing he really enjoyed, especially while flying. Also, Harry was now able to hear people talking in the next room, even with doors closed, if he concentrated on it. That gave him a lot of insight into the mechanics of the school as he now could hear the gossip before people would notice him and stop. But it also meant that he would develop a blinding headache during meals as the multitude of voices battered his ears.

His sense of smell was the same as his ears, but it was harder for Harry to isolate those smells, since the human nose normally wasn't made for that. But it made him appreciate Hermione's standards of body hygiene very much, especially compared to the usual smells in his dorm.

Life took a bit of a downturn when Rita Skeeter chose to show up for another interview with Harry after Care of Magical Creatures a week into December, but Hermione had helped him to evade her. Of course, that didn't mean that there wasn't any article about him, having seen Potter in the distance was obviously good enough for Skeeter to call it a personal interview. Unsurprisingly, it was about as truthful as if she had talked to him and ignored his responses, like before.

Some people gave Hermione the evil eye because of the rumours spread by the Daily Prophet of her having a fling with Harry.

This made Harry snarl and hiss at them when he noticed them doing so.

Literally, he did.

Another downturn followed when Hermione found the kitchens and house elves.

To his surprise, Dobby and Winky were present at Hogwarts, and while Dobby was overjoyed, Winky had taken up drinking because she still was mortified about being free. Hermione, leader of S.P.E.W, was horrified about house-elf enslavement and let her sentiment be heard, which unfortunately only made Winky even more distraught. When they finally left the kitchen, Hermione was muttering under her breath - that didn't bode well.

_**ooOOoo**_

Three days later, a Yule Ball was announced and Harry was ordered by McGonagall to find a date for it, since he needed to do the opening dance. His new confidence made him approach his intended girl, Cho Chang, the beautiful Ravenclaw Seeker he had been lusting after since last year, the next chance he had. It was only a few days later, but it turned out that she had been asked by Cedric already. His next idea was to ask Hermione, who surprisingly had already been invited by Victor Krum, of all people. She gave him the good advice to ask Padma, since she knew that the girl was still unasked. Harry immediately sought out the girl and asked her before she was taken, too.

They had a bit of a laugh at Ron having tried to ask the French contestant, Fleur, to the ball, and getting dumped in a spectacularly rude manner. It seemed that Ron had tried to ask her out in the hallway, and had been so enthralled by her that he only managed to shout "ball", "you", "me" and "dancing" at her, to which she only huffed and left.

Hermione noted that Ron's social skills weren't much better even without the girl's effect on him, but still thought it was kind of mean to treat Ron like that, even though they were currently not on good terms with the third part of their trio.

Hermione was surprised when Harry asked her a day later if she could help him learn to dance in the remaining two and a half weeks, so that he wouldn't have to be too ashamed out there. He had intended to ask her for a book, but she took it upon her to teach him in person. Life was good for a while.

They were having lots of fun together, and with meeting in empty classrooms at evenings, holding each other in their arms as they were moving to the music and talking, one thing led to another, and a week into the practice; they finally exchanged a gentle first kiss, with a few more to follow.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and making a few decisions about themselves. Most importantly, they decided unanimously to keep their dating under cover, for now.

There were various reasons for that. Both had still hopes that Ron would grow up and come around, and because Ron had a problem with changing situations, they wanted to avoid a shouting match with him. They thought that it was better to ease Ron into the concept of them being together _after_ the ball.

Also, they chose to honour their promises and to attend with their partners. Both found it bad form to dump them a week before the dance. Of course, that didn't mean that the wouldn't share some dances, or talk with each other, since they would be sitting at the same table, anyway.

This decision also solidified their other joint decision to keep their dating secret, as the gossip mill and Skeeter would have a field day if they were seen dating and then showed up to the dance with different partners. Hermione could vividly imagine the headlines about the scandalous tri- or more angled relationship of the Boy Who Lived and didn't really want to experience that. Harry hadn't even thought about that, and didn't care much about the press, but since Hermione and Padma would be dragged through the dirt as well, he agreed to her reasoning.

A few days before the dance, Ron had a major falling out with the two of them when he decided to grant Hermione with his presence at the ball, in the most insulting manner possible. After telling Ron off in a very spectacular manner, although with very vocal help from Harry, Hermione had run off into her dorm, not being seen again until the next morning, but glaring at Ron whenever he crossed her sight. After this display being witnessed by several girls in Gryffindor, rumour about him being a chauvinist jerk spread rapidly, and in the end, Ron had to go single - which he did - grudgingly, but happy to have more time for his true love, the buffet.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione was running through the dark, torch-lit halls of Hogwarts, her blue periwinkle evening gown rustling as she darted along. The staccato of her medium height heels was only interrupted by her opening and slamming of doors. Tears of panic were streaming down her cheeks, the mascara leaving a pattern of utter distraught visible on them.

After having looked in what felt like the fiftieth room, she found Harry in an abandoned tiny classroom, full of unused furniture, up on fifth floor. Being in extreme panic already, she slipped in, fearing the worst. But all her fears didn't even come close to what she saw. Harry just sat there, staring at the wall. She could have coped with everything, screaming, tears - even hexes would have been fine with her, but not that.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. No answer.

"Please? Talk to me," she tried again, her voice hitching badly as she couldn't fight the tears. Still silence.

She went around and sat in front of him, bending forward to grab his hands. "Please, Harry - talk to me. Scream, yell, whatever. But say something!"

Finally, he raised his head and answered. "And what would you like to hear, Granger?" His voice was cold, bare of any emotion, no trace of the compassionate young man that she had learned to know and love. Heavy sobs overcame her as she learned how much damage she had caused.

"I don't know, I ..." she pressed out between sobs.

"How about _why_?" Harry hissed.

For a few heartbeats, Hermione wanted to lie to him, tell him anything but the truth, but she knew that he would sense that. And he deserved better. _'It's my fault - I have to make this right,'_ she thought, and hung her head in shame. "Ron," she whispered.

"What?" he yelled at her, making her cringe.

"He was so m-mean about me going with Vi- Krum to the dance, and teased me about that Krum would never even think about touching an ugly girl like me..." she choked, and had to stop talking and sobbed for a few seconds. She had so hoped for a hug, a caress, some consoling from him, but Harry hadn't moved an inch, he just emotionless waited for her to continue.

"And I-I wanted to teach him a lesson. I'm so sorry, I didn't think about it," she howled in tears.

"No, you didn't", Harry huffed. "Or I wouldn't have run into my girlfriend snogging another guy!" he yelled at her.

"I'm sorry," she bawled, "I didn't mean to, I had planned for Ron to catch us, I didn't know that you had intercepted him - not that it makes it any better," she hastily added as Harry glared at her.

"No, it doesn't. And his groping hands neither."

"I didn't like them, neither. I stopped him when he did that, but you already left before I managed..." Hermione sobbed, even harder now. When Harry, who she thought to be Ron, had entered, she had given in to the kiss she had been delaying for a while, and Krum had taken this as permission to grope her, and had even managed to slip his hands under her dress with a few expert moves, grabbing her ass firmly. She was shocked when he did so, and not pleased, since she had not even allowed Harry to put his hands on her _fully_ _clothed_ bum, yet.

Sadly, while she was temporarily petrified, Harry was already bolting from the room. By the time she had recovered and fought Krum off, Harry was nowhere in sight.

"Yeah, right. And what would I have run into if I had come 5 minutes later? Would you have stopped him as well? Or would I have found your legs wrapped around him?" Harry growled.

Hermione wanted to protest, but deflated the moment she tried. "I... I... I don't know. I wasn't thinking, I was mad at Ron, it was all so confusing," she replied, looking around in despair while gesticulating helplessly.

"So you cheated on me because of Ron?" he spat bitterly, and turned away to look out of the window.

"I didn't cheat, it was a stupid..." she began, and caught herself, admitting her fault. "No, it was me being stupid. I made an unbelievable stupid mistake. Please, forgive me," she begged.

"I can't," he said, not even looking at her. "It hurts even more now that I know it wasn't even affection, but a petty plan to one-up Ron!"

Howling, she threw herself on her knees before him, hugging him and crying into his dress robes. She had heard her own dress rip on the rough floor, but didn't care. _'Damn you, Hermione, you nearly lost him to the dragon and then you had to be so damn stupid - I can't lose him, I can't! I need him,'_ she mentally yelled at herself as she cried on his lap. For a few seconds, she let her tears fall freely, before she tried a last, desperate plead. "Please, forgive me, Harry. I - I'll do everything, whatever you want, just forgive me."

"What do you think could make me want to forgive that? What do you think you could do to make me forget you almost shagged another guy?" he asked, enraged, as he turned to face her. He had turned fast, and his neck had locked up a bit from that. He ignored it for a few seconds, but it quickly turned annoying. With a quick jerk, he cricked his neck to make it stop. He continued to stare at her for a second, but then turned away from her, again.

Trough her tears, Hermione had seen him look at her and his head jerk. As he turned away, she glanced in the direction of the jerk, and saw a large couch over there, nestled between some stacked chairs and tables.

For a fraction of a second, her brain went into shock. '_He wouldn't!' _she thought, '_He can't be asking for that! Harry would never do that!'_

Panic raced through her as she considered the matter. She had known that Harry doesn't forgive betrayal anymore since his encounter with the dragon, as Ron and many others who tried to apologize since the first task have learned the hard way.

She had realized back then, in the infirmary, that Harry was the only thing that made this life worth living, her only friend, and now even boyfriend thanks to some strange quirks of luck she still couldn't believe have happened. And now she had driven him away by being so stupid to let herself being goaded into showing up Ron by snogging Krum, and completely forgetting in her petty rage what this would do to Harry.

She didn't even think one second about him when she decided to do set up Ron to eat his words, and this would lose her the only love she knew, her first and best friend, a boy that risked his own life to save her without even really knowing her. If she lost Harry, she would be completely alone. And all of this just because she wanted to impress a jerk like Ron, and for being pawed by a celebrity brute. And she couldn't even honestly dispute that she would have stopped Krum, it was so intense, and she wasn't even sure she could have made him stop if he didn't want to. Of course he was pissed and would want her to earn his forgiveness. And what could be more appropriate than the biggest display of trust possible. _'It's cruel, but only fair, I guess,' _she sadly thought.

Nodding to herself, she slowly rose with a sigh. While walking over to the couch, she undid the zipper on her back, letting the soft fabric fall and pool around her legs. Not breaking stride, she stepped out of it and continued forward, ignoring the cold as she was left in only her knickers. She blushed at being exposed like that in front of a male, even if he right now could only see her back, but was resolved to make things right again.

She had at first been wary about her dress having inbuilt support and dreaded a wardrobe malfunction, but after a few test-runs in her dorm room, she had grown confident that she provided enough 'anchoring' for the dress not to slip. Right now, she felt insecure if those two 'anchors' were big enough to hold Harry's interest.

Arriving at the couch she gave a last sigh, and quickly dropped her knickers, and sat down on the couch. Her eyes closed firmly in shame; she let herself come to rest on her left side, assuming what she hoped to be a favourable pose. "I'm yours, if you still want me," she said in a broken voice, and closed her eyes in an attempt to keep from sobbing.

After a few moments of silence, she jumped as something soft touched her shoulder, and then the rest of her body. A deep sigh escaped her as she identified it to be a blanket of some sort, falling on top of her, giving her the cover she had so much yearned for. For a moment she enjoyed the feeling of safety, before a thought crashed her relief. _'He rejected me!'_

Horrified, she opened her eyes and sat up, re-exposing her breasts and not giving a damn about it, as she sought out Harry with her eyes. There he was, at the open door, looking at her. "I still do. We'll talk here tomorrow, at seven," he said, and left.

It took a few seconds for the meaning of his last cryptic words to reach her stunned centre of conscience, and hot tears of relief soaked the old quilt she hugged to her chest.

_**ooOOoo**_

**AN:**

"Your mother," his wife told DerLaCroix, who sat at the pc, exchanging some papers with pfeil and embirsiphonelilathia, handing him the ringing phone.

"Hy darling, we just got a package delivered for you to the company, did you expect one?" the voice at the other end spoke as DerLaCroix answered the call.

"Sure! I've been waiting for this package already," DerLaCroix answered happily.

"Then come and fetch it - there's no way I'll get this heavy thing into the car and deliver it. What have you in there? An anvil?" the other voice squeaked.

DerLaCroix had the grace to blush. "Aaaahmm, actually… Yes…"

(It's even funnier, considering that this really happened…)

_**ooOOoo**_

Again, a big Thank You to my betas, pfeil and embirsiphonelilathia, who help my pathetic sputtering make sense.

Sorry that this update took so long, but my life has gotten even more hectic lately. But I have finally managed have some breakthroughs with my lands and it seems like everything is approaching normality again. (As far as someone like me can ever reach that state.)

So, flame on - and for those who think Hermione would never stoop that low, one word - McLaggen. Only that Krum is used to girls throwing themselves at him and willing to use this to his advantage.


	4. The best gift, ever

**Disclaimer:** My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By LaCroix

**Chapter 3: The best gift, ever.**

The next morning, a nervous Hermione was waiting in 'their' room. In fact, she hadn't slept all night, and had returned here at five. The last time she got up that early on Christmas day was when she had been a young child eager to see what Santa had brought for her that year. Currently, she was on the couch, cuddling into the quilt Harry had covered her with yesterday, while she waited for his arrival, worrying her lip in doubt if he would really show up.

As the tower clock struck seven, somewhere out there - she started getting really nervous, but before the chimes had ended, Harry entered the room. Uncertain about how to react, Hermione rushed to stand, but then only uttered a small "Hi!"

Harry looked slightly confused for a second, before he cottoned on and laughed. "No hugs and kisses anymore?" He asked with a grin that was as lopsided as it was adorable.

With a squeal of delight, Hermione hurled herself at him, showering him in teary kisses.

After a few seconds of kissing, they finally settled onto the wide windowsill, cuddled into the quilt and a warming charm, looking out onto the quiet lake and enjoying the sunrise.

It was Hermione who broke that silence. She contently sighed and snuggled deeper into his arm. "Why couldn't we do this yesterday?" She asked wistfully.

"It might have been due to me being slightly enraged by certain events," Harry chuckled without malice, but Hermione stiffened in his embrace at his words.

"I'm sorry," she said with a small voice.

"I know that, trust me I do," Harry replied softly as he tightened his hold on her for just a second, before sighing. "I just had to get it out of my system; there was no way I could have sat down and talked to you rationally last night. I'm still angry with what happened, and I might be for awhile. The important thing is I'm not angry with you anymore."

He had started caressing her hair while he had talked, soothing her, letting her know they would be alright, someday. Still, she felt a pang of guilt resurface. "Why?"

"I know that Ron can drive you to do crazy things. He just knows how to push your buttons. Since I am prone to do stupid things myself when Snape or Malfoy goad me, I'd feel like a hypocrite if I condemn you. Also, when I tried to remember what I saw, think I do remember that it didn't really look like you kissed him back. Am I imagining that or is that true?"

Hermione gulped before she replied, wincing at every third word. "Well, I won't say anything about Ron. And you are right - I didn't kiss him at all. I had managed to keep him at distance for a few minutes, until I heard footsteps coming. Then gave in and embraced him. Instead of starting to kiss me, he latched onto me and grabbed my bum. I didn't like it, but I thought it would be perfect for Ron to see me like that, so I played along, and suddnely, his hands were under my dress. I was sick about him forcing himself at me like that, but it all went too quick, and I was confused. Then you suddenly stood there, and but before I could push him away, you were already gone…" she trailed off, sniffing back tears. She turned to face him, swinging her legs over to sit in his lap in the process, and hugged him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. "I really, really would have stopped him if he had tried going further, you have to believe me!"

"Hermione, while I'm still a bit miffed about what happened, I think we both messed up yesterday, and in the last weeks," Harry admitted. "We both aren't really social adept people, and I think it was to be expected that one of us would mess up someday."

"You can say that," she replied honestly, getting introspective for a while. "I think we messed up right from the start. It was a stupid idea to keep things secret. Especially after Ron made an ass of himself, again."

Harry nodded his approval, "Yeah, we should have just told everyone the truth. And explain that we didn't want to be rude so we kept our dance partners, instead of dumping them last minute."

"Still, I feel bad about what I did," Hermione said. "It was all so new between us and I really forgot about what this would do to you. Can you ever forgive me for that?"

Harry just kissed her as response, and they settled in a nice cuddling position.

"Why do you forgive me? Because I offered myself?" she suddenly asked, with a slight edge to her voice.

"Is this the start of an argument or an honest question?" Harry asked nonchalantly, and Hermione quickly back-pedalled. "Question, just a question!"

"Hey, no need to panic, Peaches," Harry cooed, pulling her head to his chest. Hermione had to grin at his endearment. Ever since he noticed her shampoo, the name just stuck. Also, he was nice enough to only use it in private, whereas Ron would have shouted embarrassing names across the Great Hall, so she let Harry be. As nicknames go, it could have been far worse.

"To be frank, at first I was peeved that you thought I would fall for such a cheap trick," Harry recounted.

Hermione's head shot up, nearly knocking into Harry's head. Only a quick jerk saved him from a bloodied lip. "What? But you wanted me to! You nodded at that couch…" she explained horrified, trailing off as he stared at her in confusion. Suddenly, he laughed out loud. As she looked at him, completely surprised by his outburst, he shook his head, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Now I understand! Seems we got our wires crossed - I didn't nod, I just had to crick my neck," he chuckled, which made small shivers travel down her spine. "Seems like your subconsciousness slipped," he added with a sparkle in his eyes.

"It did?" she asked in confusion, but blushing profusely.

He snorted a laugh at the look she wore. "It looks like, doesn't it?" he chuckled at her, waggling his eyebrows.

"To me, you suddenly stripped and offered to shag me. I was just about to really start yelling at you when I realized that you were crying. Seems funny, but that made me realize how much I meant to you, and that you really wanted to make it up to me," he continued, again sporting that damned lopsided smirk that made her knees putty.

"It did?" she asked again, signalling that she had totally lost the sense of where their talk was heading right now.

"Yep, you were nearly crying in shame about what you agreed to do, but were willing to pay any price to make me forgive you for your 'evil deeds'" - he made quotation marks with his fingers at that point - "so I found myself wondering if I could forgive you."

Her blush answered even before her nod did. She had in fact thought that it would be revenge, but she would have gone along to make him forgive her.

"It was then when I realized that you really were sorry, and, more important, wanted to earn your forgiveness. After all, I even let Ron get off lightly with just a modicum of effort on his part, and you have been a far better friend than he ever was. Hell, I am amazed that you didn't just tell me to sod off after last year," he said, and hugged her tighter for a moment. "Thank you for that, and I'm sorry I was such a jerk," he said softly.

"Don't be, it was me who went behind your back with that broomstick," Hermione protested weakly, although she couldn't deny that she felt like that apology was deserved, in a way. After all, she had been right about her assumption about the sender.

"You did, but out of concern, and not out of spite. And it certainly didn't warrant not talking to you for weeks, even Hagrid was starting to tell me off for being such an arse," Harry continued to purge his soul.

"Well, this was more Ron's than your fault," Hermione tried to gracefully wave his concession off.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have listened to him. Anyway, after thinking about it all night, I came to the realization that I more than owe you at least a chance to try."

"Weren't you at least tempted?" she asked with a small pout, her insecurity showing. Next thing, she yelped as he had smacked her butt. _'He's spanking me!' _it shot through her head. Never before had anybody hit her. Neither her parents, who didn't believe in that, nor her classmates - as cruel as they were. The sudden burning sensation that spread over her butt cheek was copied in her face as he continued speaking

"That's for even considering that I didn't like what I did see," he scolded with a faint growl, his eyes lit with amusement. "To be honest, I was more than just tempted, then. I even admit having thought _very intensively_ about lording Krum over you for a long time to force you into some reprehensible acts of sexual exploitation after I went to bed," he told her in an overly innocent voice, although his ears had tinged slightly.

Hermione had gasped - her eyes wide - at this confession before her face went all dreamy. Not only had he admitted that he liked her body, he had insinuated that he had actually relieved pressure with fantasies about her. That thought gave her a nice tingle inside. Not to mention that her butt still tingled surprisingly nicely from his slap. Harry was certainly getting more and more aggressive in their relationship lately, and she found that she rather liked it. She always liked men she could look up to and who took control of things. And then his comfy arm she was lying on.

"Will you take a rain check for that?" she giggled, and snuggled deep into his arm, sighing contently.

_**ooOOoo**_

"_I'll do whatever it takes to make you forgive me," she repeated her offer from last night._

"_Whatever?" he asked, with a broad grin. _

_Hermione blushed, but nodded, hopefully. She knew it could be bad, but she had foolishly made her bed and she would pay her fine gladly if it meant she wouldn't have to lie in it. At least, she had a fighting chance._

"_Get up," he commanded, and rose himself, crossing over the room, stalking toward her in a predatory way that made her shiver under his gaze. It had a feral intensity to it, and she felt her chest tighten as she had to struggle for breath._

_Closer and closer he came, and she was mesmerized and frightened at the same time by the devious way he stared at her. Instinctively, she backed up as he approached her, but her retreat came to a sudden end as she bumped into the wall. He continued his motion, and she leaned back as far as she could, but as his hands came to a rest at her sides she found herself trapped against the wall._

_For a moment, his face was only an inch from hers, waiting, while his smouldering green eyes were locked with her brown ones, and this moment seemed to last a eternity and just a blink at the same time. Suddenly, without warning, his lips crossed the gap between them and found hers. It was no gentle kiss; it was wild, feral, just like Victor's had been, yet so different. Like under a spell, she threw her arms around his neck as she responded to his kiss. She started to feel dizzy as he devoured her mouth without pause._

_She gasped as his mouth was removed and found the base of her neck, suckling and biting. The onslaught made her head spin and her knees buckle, and she was certain she would have fallen if he hadn't pressed her to the wall so tightly. _

_When she felt fingertips trace her leg from the tigh upwards, she shivered lightly. It felt so different from the rough gropes of Krum; this was as forceful, but at the same time tantalizing gentle. The fingers became a full hand as it caressed her butt, leaving a trail of glowing heat as she felt herself blush. Just as she started relaxing into the touch, the hand left, and returned with a slap. Yelping, she held fast to Harry, who started kneading her buttock without stopping to ravish her neck._

_As the burning sensation exploded across her butt-cheek, the caress resumed, soft and gentle. Harry continued caressing her ass and legs for minutes, alternating between hard gropes, slaps and tender touches, while kissing her lips and all over her neck. The combination was driving her crazy._

_As a foot slipped between her legs and told her to spread her legs by soft kicks to the inner side of her feet, she obeyed without hesitation, and stood at shoulder's width._

_If Harry could see her face, he would be impressed that she blushed so hard that she was out-doing the redness of her lower cheeks, but she kept completely still as his hand trailed up the inside of her leg._

_While she was battling with herself whether to make him stop or not, his hand was approaching her sex. The possibility of him touching her 'there' made her senses tingle and the burning sensation on her ass was spreading into 'that' area. Her thoughts ran wild at the multitude of options. _

_Ten inches, five, three, two, one. So close. The tantalizing finger was so close to the place no one had touched her yet. Her whole upbringing was screaming at her to make him stop, but at the same time, the burning on her ass and in her sex was urging her to let him do it._

_But he didn't._

_A tiny fraction of an inch before he touched her centre, that thrice dammed hand detoured onto her butt. She sighed in frustration, followed by a shriek as it smacked her nearly too hard to bear. But only nearly. Mortified, she realized that she was getting turned on by that. _

_**ooOOoo **_

Hermione twitched as she woke, and looked around in post-dream confusion. Groggily, she realized that they had fallen asleep on the windowsill. No wonder, considering that both of them didn't sleep much last night. She stretched herself a bit, but not so much that she might lose body contact or rouse Harry. That dream had been intense, and could feel the accumulated heat tingling between her tighs. She wanted to savour it a bit before she woke him.

"Nice dream?" Harry whispered in her ear.

"Hu? What? How?" she replied eloquently, but her blush gave her away. Thoughts were running through her mind. Why was he awake - and how did he know?

He laughed at her, tapping is nose. "You know, with my nose it's impossible nowadays to miss a girl's arousal. I was awake even before you started moaning in your sleep. I bet Moony has this problem all the time."

Mortified, she stared at him, her face losing all colour. Given her prior blush, the effect was remarkable.

He gave a guffaw and pulled her into a hug, into which she gladly burrowed until she had regained at least a resemblance of composure.

"So, want to share?" he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, you!" Hermione squealed, and pummelled his chest lightly with her fists. "You're making fun of me!"

"I just wanted to take notes of what made you that hot," Harry answered, laughing good natured at her cute outburst. "Please?"

At first, she wasn't inclined to tell him anything, but then she changed her mind. Still, there was no way she would tell him _that_! Looking around quickly to ensure they were still alone, she confessed, too.

"We both, um, kissing and stuff," she whined as she hid her face in his chest again, too ashamed to look at him because of what she had left out.

"Really? Just that? Too bad, I thought it would be some kinky stuff," he told her with a slight whine in his voice. "You know what they say about the bookish ones," he added, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes at him in return and slapped his arm before she planted a kiss on his lips and separated an arm's length.

"I didn't remember you complaining about what we did this morning," she smiled coyly while batting her eyelashes at him.

"Well, that's right, making up has a thing or two to it," he agreed with a guttural growl in his voice and that feral look which made the hair on her neck stand up.

"Well, I think I can arrange that we have opportunities to make up now and then," Hermione said with a smug smile, trying to get one up on him, only to see his face fall slightly. She was puzzled for a moment before suddenly, the double meaning registered with her as well.

"No! Not like that! I was joking! Please, I'm sorry!" she shouted frantically, and snuggled deeply into his chest, hugging him for all she was worth.

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed. "I know, I know. Just touched a sore spot, you know. But just to make this one thing clear, Peaches," he spoke softly, as he let his hand run through her hair. "If something even remotely like Krum happens again, you could bend over backwards naked, and I still wouldn't take you back. I gave you a second chance, and even for you, there are no thirds, alright?" he ended in a whisper and Hermione nodded, clinging to his chest as they continued to heal their bond.

_**ooOOoo**_

As it was getting close to nine o'clock, they finally made their way down to breakfast.

On the way down, they had evidence about how fast the Hogwarts gossip network was. Obviously, although they tried to keep it quiet, the story that they actually were dating before the dance was already out. Also, most of the facts about the evening's end were around, as well. So it didn't take much for the top gossips to create some nasty rumors that all were only loosely based on the facts, but true enough to not easily being disputed.

So basically everyone threw glances at them as they passed, and more than once a hushed conversation ceased as they came across a group of girls, although they didn't shut up fast enough to keep the content away from Harry's ears.

"Slut", "cheated", and "went and shagged Krum" were the most prominent quotes, and Harry was close to losing his temper as they continued walking. He already had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking in anger. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't understand much, but the looks told her the kind of rumours that were circulating about her. Walking side by side, his face scrunched in anger and her head hung in shame, only led to the rumours being confirmed in the eyes of the onlookers.

Breakfast was horrible.

Harry more than once hoped that he could be in Potions instead and wolfed down his food in an amazing tempo to get it over with. Hermione only sampled her food, pushing more food around than she actually ate, and kept her eyes firmly on her plate.

Harry didn't. His eyes were squinted and scanning the surroundings, memorizing the faces belonging to the whispers he heard, as he made a list of everyone who scorned Hermione. That list was growing long, as it seemed everyone and his pet was bad-mouthing Hermione. Even Professor McGonagall seemed to look sterner when looking at Hermione, Harry thought, although that was hard to tell with the up-tight woman.

The situation was even worse for the fact that most of their friends were not present yet to distract them, and Hermione couldn't help but sigh in relief when Harry finally slammed down his fork and rose. To any outside observer, it was obvious that the both of them nearly fled out of the silently watching Great Hall, which prompt exploded into less hushed chatter.

Hermione had to nearly run to keep up with Harry, as he stomped away in the direction of their common room, but Harry soon noticed that she was struggling to keep up and slowed down for her, reaching for her hand. They walked in silence, no words needed between the two of them, and when they reached the safety of the common room, Harry hugged her tight for a few seconds. Hermione was so lost in the feeling of safety that she completely missed that he had spoken to her while doing so.

"I said, please wait by the fire, I want to give you something," he repeated.

With this, he gave her a peck on her cheek and rushed up the stairs.

Still lost in thought, Hermione sat down at the couch near the fire.

_**ooOOoo**_

"YOU SLUT!" Those harsh words registered first with Hermione. Shaking her head in confusion, she looked up to see Ron towering over her. She briefly wondered if it had been him who had insulted her so badly. A second later, she knew for sure.

"You filthy, fucking WHORE!" Ron shouted, and spat into her face.

Hermione was petrified with shock. She couldn't believe what just had happened to her. Wide-eyed, she touched her face and felt his spit running down her cheek. He had spat on her. Spat! That was disgusting! It was probably the most insulting thing she could imagine doing to a human being. How could he be so mean? What did she do to him?

Her mind was not yet finished processing that experience when she was brutally pulled to her feet by the collar of her blouse, hearing the seams knack in protest against that. Unable to move, he saw Ron swing his hand back to hit her. She just stared at the retreating hand, somewhere in her mind registering his intent, but too shocked by the course of events to act. Her mind was completely thrown into a loop as she closed her eyes and cringed away slightly in expectancy of the blow.

Suddenly and surprisingly painless, she was thrown back onto the couch while she thought to hear some wild creature roaring somewhere. Lying there, she felt a bit dizzy, but was sure she hadn't been hit. Harry had shown her how a slap on the ass felt like; she could tell that she certainly wouldn't miss a blow to the face. _'What happened?'_

When she reopened her eyes, it felt like she had been hit by the sight she witnessed. The big stuffed chair to her right had been knocked over, and the couch table was shattered against the wall. As her eyes following that path, she found Harry, who was holding Ron against the wall, growling in anger, his teeth bared as he did so.

More impressively, he did hold the bigger boy with just one hand, with Ron's feet dangling in the air, while Harry's right hand was clamped around his throat. Harry's left hand held the hand Ron had intended to hit her with to the wall, and Ron's other hand desperately clawed at the restricting grip around his throat, while blood flew from a cut above his eye.

Harry slowly leaned in, and was hissing something at Ron, whose eyes widened even more at what she believed, and hoped, could only be a vile threat. Harry then simply turned, releasing his hold on their former friend - as far as she was concerned, he could go to hell - and doing so, threw him ten feet across the room, towards the stairs. Ron bounced twice, and then scurried backwards on hands and feet in panic, getting some distance between Harry and himself before he climbed to his feet.

"Damn you! She fucked Krum and still you side with her? Is she shagging you, too?" Ron yelled with a face contorted in pure hatred. He reached for his wand but was never to finish that move.

He ended up screaming once more as Harry threw him into the stairs with a bludgeoning hex. While his wand flew across the room, Ron curled up in pain. The spell had hit him into the stomach, and for a few moments, Hermione was sure that she would witness Weasley - she realized that she didn't want to be on first-name base with that jerk anymore - emptying his stomach. Sadly, the spell hadn't been that powerful, since Weasley was still able to drag himself into a somewhat upright position and then stumble up the stairs. Apparently, it had been strong enough to make Harry's point come across clearly.

Hermione hurried to Harry, trying to hug him, but stopped cold as she saw him standing there. He was staring at his hand, his still outstretched hand. His wandless hand he had just cast with.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry was looking for the stupid box all over the dormitory. When he had returned late last night, he was too angry to put it down properly, and had thrown it somewhere before practically ripping his dress robes off and falling into the bed.

At first, his mind had been racing with pictures of Hermione and Krum in that room, repeating over and over again, until he had started to remember the details, like her surprised look and that she wasn't hugging Victor, but rather pushing him away from her. Given her explanations and his memories, he had started to mull over the both of them.

Ok, she had made a stupid mistake in anger, but there wasn't any real harm done, and he had to admit that she really knew how to apologize, although he found that a bit over the top and too cheap for her. But then again, didn't she tell him that he was the main reason she was able to stand life at Hogwarts? And she had always been there for him and had helped him in so many ways, so maybe he should give her some slack.

Especially as he was having some real good dreams concerning her apology and the things he had seen. Of course, he never would admit to her that half the reason for not taking her up on her offer was that he had been scared blind by the sheer possibility of doing _it_.

Thinking about that reminded him of another piece of help she had given him. With a wave of his wand, and a short call of "Accio Hermione's present," the box flew at him from underneath Neville's bed. Smugly, he caught the small package with the owl book order account vouchers and a box of Honeydukes Finest he had procured from the twins - who were running a veritable smuggler ring for all who knew and paid the price. Even he, raised in a cupboard, knew very well that book oder vouchers weren't a usual girlfriend gift, but like all his life, even his girlfriend wasn't of the normal kind, he thought with a smirk, shaking his head in amusement.

Pocketing the slightly dented thing, he made his way down the staircase, only to hear some vile words being shouted. Making a mad dash, he entered the common room at the moment Ron spat into Hermione's face. He was shocked for a moment, but that petrification went by quickly when he saw Ron pulling Hermione to her feet and winding up to hit her. The package took flight once again as his view turned crimson and he started running towards them.

An all-encompassing feeling of loathing filled him as he started to run with all he had. He barely noticed shoving the chair away and kicking at the table to get it out of the way as he grabbed his former best friend by the raised hand and yanked him away from his Peaches.

The momentum was sufficient to send Hermione flying onto the couch and Ron into the wall, where he received a nasty cut from the impact. Harry spun him around to pin his hand against the rough stone, and getting a painful yell from the boy in return. For a few moments, he held the offending hand in an iron grip that was obviously extremely painful to Ron, who desperately tried to pry the fingers off. In another surge of cold rage, he grabbed Ron by the throat and pressed the struggling boy against the wall. This changed Ron's priorities, the boy was now frantically tearing at Harry's other hand around his throat, while Harry was still deciding weather to strangle the bastard or not.

Finally, the fact that they once were friends slightly outweighed the insult to his mate, and Harry relaxed his grip slightly, before bending forward to address his former friend, who was gasping huge gulps of air in.

"If I hear even rumours about you touching her - ever - again, I'll tear you limb from limb, understood?" he hissed into Ron's ear, and when he thought the git had gotten the message, he gave him a shove in the right direction. Surprisingly, this made the jerk go arse over teakettle. He must have hit the wall harder than Harry had thought. After all, Ron was nearly twice his build and should have mopped up the floor with him by now.

Sadly, the blow had not improved his mental facilities any, and after spouting even more vile dragon dung, he even tried to go for his wand. Harry reacted immediately, striking first and making Ron tuck his tail and retreat.

Only after the fact, he noticed that he hadn't even gone for his own wand and had actually cast a wandless spell. His confusion and pride went out of the window when he looked at Hermione, who seemingly had gone into shock over all this.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hermione, are you alright? Did he hit you?"

Harry had started shaking her gently by her shoulders when his questions were left unanswered. He was face to face with her and staring in her eyes, making it impossible for her to look away. Only the soft shaking partially woke her from the shock she was in.

Harry had turned his head and asked her if she had seen that, but she couldn't do more than register his voice. Every fibre of Hermione was busy looking at his eyes.

"Your eyes... Harry! Your eyes!" she stammered, still staring at them.

"What?"

Instead of answering, she dragged him to a mirror next to the portrait exit. Harry took a short glimpse at the mirror and recoiled with a profane curse at seeing his jade-green eyes.

With a yellow-veined and vertically slitted pupil.

_**ooOOoo**_

**AN:**

"Sorry, but we have no budget left for this," the chief accountant said as he had checked the balance.

"Come on, at least one must be possible," DerLaCroix demanded, glancing towards embirsiphonelilathia at her desk, who did her best to look as if she didn't have noticed, lest be pulled into this.

The accountant shook his head. There wasn't enough money left this month for a ballista.

"Damn. How am I supposed to backstab someone and get away with it without a fucking siege weapon? You know that there is no rule against that - you watched _The Gamers_, too!"

_**ooOOoo**_

Again, many thanks to my beta, embirsiphonelilathia.

My life stays crazy and time to write is limited, but I hope this christmas present is well received. Have fun and read slowly, so it lasts longer... *smirk*  
And yes, the title was slightly sarcastic...

Singled out minions:

Dennisud - As you are the one who brought it up. Yes, they are 14. In fact, Harry is 14.5 by now, and Hermione might even be 16 already. (She is at least 15.25, and we never learn how much time she spent extra due to time-turning, but according to the exhaustion, it was significant, so I assume 15.5)

In the US, the average first time happens between 16 and 17, in Europe it is more like between 15 and 16. Back then, it was about the same. (I was born in the late 70's and even my age group averaged at 16.5.) Since that average consists of earlier and later 'starters', I assume an one year variation, means that it happens between 14 and 17 for most.

Therefore, I think it would be reasonable to have people in full relationships by year four or start of year five. So if it was based on reality, most of the Hogwarts students would have _done the deed_ by year six, and we could expect a few accidental pregnancies here and there. Of course, being planned as a child's novel from the beginning on, this isn't the case in the original books.

BJH (anonymous) - Wow, you are reading a lot into this. Entirely too much.

Omh666 - The anvil is because in my spare time, I do blacksmith work. I also build bows, siege engines, do archery, horseback archery, ride, and give riding lessons, while also doing the farm work. For programming I use Java at work, and C++ at home, I even occasionally use Assembler when I make some embedded circuitry for various remote controlled models I used to build.

And yeah, I use a time-turner to find enough time for all that.


	5. The things I wouldn't do…

**Disclaimer:** My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By LaCroix

**Chapter 4: The things I wouldn't do…**

"Well, at least there is no need to use those fake glasses anymore!" Harry said for the third time.

When a few tries of _Finite Incantatem_ hadn't worked to restore his eyes, the two of them had hastily repaired the furniture and then fled from the common room to 'their' classroom, lest anybody saw Harry in his current state. With a bit of magic and some good old-fashioned pushing and pulling, they had made a cosy setting in a corner. After all, there was more than enough furniture around in this room.

"It might make people overlook them," Hermione warily replied, while her hand was kneading Harry's thigh to comfort the distraught boy. "We probably should go to the nurse with it," she suggested.

"No way," Harry had vehemently declined, "she already has checked me thoroughly, and Ron didn't cast any spell, nor did he touch me."

"Harry, this isn't a cut or bruise," Hermione urged him on. "This could be serious."

"No, he doesn't look like that, at all," Harry huffed sardonically. It took Hermione an effort to refrain from hitting him for his cheek.

"Since it obviously has affected your humor negatively, as well, it really would be better to let her look you over once more," she said with a smile, trying to cheer him up a bit. Deep inside, she knew that the nurse had tried everything she could think of to find out what had happened to his eyes, so if something were wrong with them, she would have noticed, but it wouldn't hurt to have a second look at it.

"I can't," was his definitive reply. She knew that tone. She used the same when she positively wouldn't budge from her position.

"Why?" She asked, slightly irritated at his stubbornness.

For a few moments, Harry visibly sparred with himself whether to tell or not. "Dumbledore, and Snape," he finally sighed.

"What the h... what do they have to do with Pomfrey checking you out?" Hermione huffed, fighting the urge to curse and throw her hands into the air, pacing in front of their seat while giving him a serious bollocking for being such a _boy_.

"You know that Dumbledore would learn about it five minutes after I'm out of the door," Harry said tentatively, obviously beating around the bush.

Hermione couldn't deny the validity of this guess. After all, Dumbledore had a habit of being informed about everything. There was a distasteful joke in the girl's bedrooms that he probably even knew the color of their current underwear. She had refrained thinking too much about that.

"That's probably true, but why does it matter? He certainly already knows about your heightened senses."

"You bet, but when Pomfrey asked me about it a few weeks later, I lied," Harry confessed. "I told her it had gone back to normal."

"You did what?" Hermione gasped in reply. It was an incredibly stupid thing to lie to your physician! She was just about to give him a piece of her mind about that when he gave her his reasoning for doing so.

"It was the right thing to do. Remember the potions class where Snape ribbed me about my bad vision? That was the day after that talk."

Hermione felt slightly disturbed by that. "So she..."

"Told Dumbledore, who instantly informed Snape," Harry completed.

"That's so... unprofessional," Hermione hissed. "Don't they know anything about patient's confidentiality!"

"Obviously not," Harry sighed.

"This is an outrage," Hermione began, now starting to really get the gist of it.

"This is my life," Harry shot her down before she could begin a rant on the injustice of the system. "All I do is under scrutiny and under their control. Dumbledore told me outright that he is using me as bait in the tournament to catch whomever put me into it. And he obviously keeps Snape well informed about everything, even though he knows the man hates my guts. I just can't trust him anymore, he doesn't seem to have my best interest at heart."

"I guess you are right, in a way," she relented. "You know, I think it wouldn't be that bad if people notice your eyes, anyway. It's not that visible, compared with some other people," she tried to talk it down to cheer him up.

"You mean like Flitwick, Hagrid, or Madame Maxime," Harry asked in a sharp tone. "Do you know how some people talk about them behind their backs?"

"Not to forget Skeeter - the moment she finds out, it will be in the next morning's Prophet," he groaned and let his head drop into his hands.

Hermione tried her best to console him, rubbing his back and telling him it wouldn't be so bad, but she knew as well as Harry, that her assurances that no one would bother him were just pulled out of her…derriere…

For some time, they sat and did nothing, except for to mope and support, respectively. Then suddenly, Hermione jumped up, scaring Harry somewhat in the process. "We could cast a notice-me-not charm on them! That way, no one would look at your eyes!" she proclaimed her solution, before slumping back in defeat. "But that would make talking to anybody extremely awkward, and I like looking into your eyes," she whined.

"Even like that?" Harry said with a pained voice. He felt hideous. To him, that new change made him feel like he had been even more disfigured than he already was with his scar. After all, that was something he simply obtained and had gotten used to over the years. But these eyes were unnatural in their appearance. No one would be able to bear looking him into the eye. He felt like he truly was a freak now.

Hermione instantly shuffled closer, and took his face in her hands, bringing it closer to hers, and then proceeded to shower his face and eyes with small kisses before talking to him.

"Nothing could ever change that. I nearly lost you once for my stupidity, and I'd never risk that again. Even if you looked like Moody, I'd still love you. And while it looks a bit unusual, it's only visible up close and doesn't look bad, actually. It makes you a bit rakish, tough," she cheekily added like an afterthought. It earned her a slap on her bum, which made her squeal in surprise.

"You enjoy spanking bit far too much, mister," she pouted while rubbing her backside in an overly dramatic manner. The gesture was negated by the huge smile on her face. Harry was developing a quite aggressive hands-on way of reacting to taunts lately. She had to admit to herself that his assertiveness was quite attractive to her.

"I enjoy spanking _you_," he emphasised with a guttural growl, and pulled her into a gentle hug and kiss which, had anybody asked Hermione, could have lasted forever. Deep down inside, she allowed for a slap now and then being fine, too.

"You certainly don't do dull days, do you?" she asked playfully, after what seemed an eternity of bliss in his arms.

"I'd love a dull day, for once," he sighed. "I've heard they are supposed to be boring, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Extremely," she said while playfully curling a strand of his hair with her index finger.

"Sounds fun - could we do that?"

"I don't believe you could, no matter how much you tried," she giggled, and made a face at him as he tried to glare at her.

"You're right," he sighed.

"Aren't I always, Harreeeeeeee!" She started in a posh voice, only to start trashing and squealing when Harry pounced at her, tickling her merciless.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ok, let's start with the easy one," Hermione proclaimed as she walked around their room. "First, we have to practice the Notice-me-not charm for your eyes, and then we'll have to clean up this room a bit," she said, eyeing the furniture strewn across the room and giving some chairs a scrutinizing shake.

"I'm with you on the first, but why should we clean up here?" Harry asked. He couldn't quite follow her on her agenda.

"Honestly, Harry - we need a place to retreat to study your eyes and abilities. And to research," she told him, while appraising the furniture.

"Research? What for?"

"Honestly! Isn't that obvious?" Hermione huffed over her shoulder. "I guess we could spend a few weeks blindly guessing between each other what has happened, and coming up with nothing," she nagged as she appraised a couple of chairs for their comfort and stability. "Ooor, we could do a tiny bit of research in the library in order to find out more before jumping to conclusions," she drawled, as if she were explaining something to a toddler. Harry mugged at her in reply to her mockery.

"Not to speak about the training for the next task - if I'm going to help you, we can at least put some effort into creating a suitable place," Hermione continued with a smirk, while giving a rather rickety looking desk a shove and shaking her head when it creaked dangerously. "We need to repair some of them," she remarked, quite superfluously.

Harry jumped a little when she spun around and went by him on her way to a cupboard, barely avoiding to run into her on her sudden change of course. Rooting through the broken inventory of the cupboard for a while, Hermione clapped her hands and turned around to face him.

"That's exactly what I was looking for," she exclaimed, holding an old book of some kind. Worn lettering let Harry assume it was some schoolbook or something.

"It's an old issue of a Muggle Studies workbook," Hermione replied to his unspoken question as she put it on a table, having read his intentions. Pulling out her wand, she first cast some repairing spells on it, before she proceeded to make all the ink on the pages vanish with another spell.

"What?" she asked when she noticed that Harry watched her with wide eyes. "I only like real books, this thing is worse than a paperback novel," she huffed as she continued cleaning the pages, ranting along as she cast. "It's not as if there weren't enough copies of this badly written piece of fiction left..."

Harry chose the coward's way out and just nodded dumbly.

"Tada!" Hermione chirped as she had finished clearing the last page. "Done!"

"Great," Harry replied. "What for?"

"Honestly," Hermione said as she tapped her foot. "If we start to research, we need somewhere to write our findings down. Loose parchment won't do," she stated the obvious. Obvious for her, at least - Harry was quite out of his depth in academic matters.

"Whatever," he conceded. "What now?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Let's begin with the most needed - the Notice-me-not charm. This spell is quite tricky. First..." Hermione began her lecture, and Harry quickly found out that class was much more fun if you were a teacher's pet.

_***** two hours later *** **_

"I think you have it right now, Harry," Hermione smiled after Harry had brushed his hand over his face while mumbling under his breath. "I absolutely can't concentrate on your eyes anymore," she said. "Doing it wandlessly will certainly help keeping it secret."

"Yeah, tapping and sliding your wand over your eyes might make people suspicious," Harry replied with a smirk as the wiped his eyes again, cancelling the charm. The notice-me-not charm was an rather easy to cast concealment charm, but also much easier to break than complicated charms like glamours or outright invisibility - which would be even worse than his current problem.

During practise, Harry noticed that making somebody aware of something by pointing a wand at it, and then suddenly being unable to concentrate on that anymore would defeat the purpose of the charm, and probably help people to break through it. Using a hand and wiping your face was much stealthier.

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile in reply. His new-found ability to cast wandlessly was still a mystery to her. Hermione was eager to solve that enigma, hoping she could learn how to do so, herself, in course of it, as well.

"This is amazing, you know? Even Professor Dumbledore only ever demonstrated small charms wandlessly, I wonder what you could do with it," she said, making some final notes in her journal.

"I know, still, it's annoying that the charm tinges everything in a yellow hue," Harry said.

"It does that, still?" Hermione asked. "Strange. Cast it on me, would you?" She demanded. Harry complied, a bit proud that she didn't even consider the possibility that he could mess up something with her.

"No - nothing wrong for me," Hermione stated after a few moments of looking around in the room.

"Everything looks alright," she said, alternately covering each of her eyes with a hand while looking at the white pages and around. "Maybe it's just your better vision picking up on slight distortions," she offered as she grabbed her wand to cancel the spell.

"Maybe," Harry offered. While the appearance of his eyes did bother him greatly, he certainly wasn't about to complain about his improved vision. If that was the price to pay for not needing glasses and all the other benefits, he would buck up and stop complaining about the downsides. It would take time for him to grow used to it, and other people's reaction to it.

"Anyway, I still find the fact that wandless magic comes that easy to you fascinating," Hermione said while she scribbled some more notes into her 'Harry journal', pausing to nibble her quill for a moment, before she stated the next point on her agenda.

"Maybe we should check what other spells you can produce, measure the effects, and compare with the effects when you cast using your wand as a baseline. I think we can make some charts, and try working out a power level of some sort, for different types of spells, with a reasonable standard deviation, of course. I propose we…" - she went off on a scientific tangent that left Harry staring blankly at her when the number of syllables began increasing exponentially.

"Yes, I think that would be the most reasonable way to do it, don't you agree, Harry?" she concluded, tapping her quill to her chin, lightly. One look at her gaping boyfriend informed her that she had lost him quite a while ago. "Honestly," she huffed at him, but without malice. Shaking her head, she got up and fetched another of the Muggle Studies books, and tossed it onto one of the more reliable worktables.

"Try to levitate it, first with your wand and then without; when we have this done, we will move on to incineration," she commanded.

Harry's eyebrow rose significantly at her statement. "You really hate that curriculum, don't you," he replied with a broad grin.

"Hush and cast, boyfriend. Hush and cast," came the not much less cheeky reply.

_**ooOOoo**_

A few hours - and quite a lot of confetti - later, a missed lunch and only a bit of time left to make it to dinner, they were sure that Harry could produce nearly all spells of their curriculum wandlessly, and that at a moderately good power level.

They had played a lot with this ability, trying to find the limits; with Hermione meticulously keeping a journal about everything they learned about Harry's new abilities. The results let her come to the conclusion that his wandless spells were varying between a quarter and half of the effects of those cast with the help of a wand, although Harry was much more in control of his spells without a wand. Hermione had some theories about that, which Harry took to mean 'the higher the possible power, the less control', or something like that. Like always, he didn't care much about the theory, just about the practical uses.

During the tests, they had begun to redo the room's interior for their purposes, and they didn't need to do a lot to make it fit their needs. They shrunk the furniture they didn't need and placed it into a cupboard, and transfigured and cleaned everything else to their tastes.

They subjected the tattered couch to a huge number of _Reparo_ spells to patch up the frayed spots, and, much to their surprise, Harry effortlessly carried to its new location by hand. Hermione immediately made a note about having to measure his strength sometimes.

Deciding to reschedule the rest of the redecoration efforts to the next day, both went off to find dinner. After all the work they had put in, the room looked rather inviting.

Stepping out of the door, Harry wiped his face in a tired way, before turning to Hermione. "Is that thing on?" he quipped, with Hermione first looking confused, then nodding with a bright smile as she noticed that she couldn't notice his eyes anymore.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Harry, would you mind if I don't go attend meals in the hall anymore, but rather get a bite from the kitchen instead?" Hermione asked early in the morning, in the common room.

"Oh! That's were you have been hiding?" Harry asked in concern. Given her current status as gossip target number one, he wasn't really surprised that Hermione reacted that way. She had occasionally skipped lunch or dinner in the last few days, always insisting on him to go, claiming she wasn't hungry.

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "Sorry, I couldn't take the way people were talking about me anymore."

"Tell me about it," Harry huffed. "It's gotten even worse since you started skipping meals, I can't keep up with glaring at people anymore. I'd rather join you, if you don't mind," he said as he pulled her near for a hug.

As she relaxed into his arms, he asked a follow up-question. "How are you doing with the elves? They weren't exactly fond of you last year," he asked, attempting to tip-toe around the sensitive topic.

"I've started discussing S.P.E.W. with the elves," she replied with a sigh. "I realized that my help isn't needed, nor wanted here at Hogwarts, and we have come to an agreement; I don't bother them, and they will inform me if they are treated badly," she said. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. This was basically a full retreat by Hermione. No way would the elves ever complain about anything to her - she wasn't their master and it would take Malfoy level abuse for a long time for an elf starting to complain. He had an inkling that Hermione knew this as well, but had backed off in order to gain a safe haven.

Going off to the kitchen, Harry tickled the pear on the picture, and followed Hermione into one of the most relaxing meals they had for a long time.

Within a few days after Harry decided to join her in those meals, the elves, especially Dobby, started to compete amongst them with trying to make the most romantic settings, much to Hermione's amusement.

It took Harry a while to adjust to floating violins, but then he surprised her by adding dancing to their dinner activities. "After all, I worked hard with you to get these skills; it would be a shame to let them to go to waste," he told her with a smirk as he pulled her close.

_**ooOOoo**_

Things went worse when Harry appeared one day at their lunch with a bloodied lip and a shiner.

"Harry! What happened?" Hermione cried out as she rushed around the table to check him.

"Damned trick doors," Harry huffed. "Ran into one."

Hermione didn't believe him one second. "Twice?" she asked as she inspected the shiner on his left eye and the cut and bruises on his right cheek.

"Very tricky door," Harry growled with a glare, wincing as he squinted his bruised eye. "I fell after I ran into it."

"Honestly, if you don't want to talk about if, just say so," Hermione huffed, pointing at his reddened knuckles. "Or do you want to tell me you punched that door in revenge?" She said as she started casting some bruise healing charms.

"Maybe I just knocked too hard, and it took offence," Harry joked darkly.

"That door did quite a number on you," Hermione teased when the usually quick working charms it took her several minutes to heal the bruises on him. Hermione took that as a sign for the severe beating he had taken.

Still, he stubbornly refused to talk about it, no matter how much she huffed and pried.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Have you heard about the twins, Lav?" Parvati chatted later that evening while she brushed her hair out.. Hermione didn't pay her chatty roommates much mind as she dug for her nightshirt under her pillow, with Crookshanks refusing to budge from the same, instead enjoying the rocking motions with a purr.

"Yeah, do you have details?" Lavender's airhead voice replied. "I only heard that they needed Pomfrey's help."

"You won't believe it, but Su Li was in there when they came in," Parvati replied.

"Why's that? Did she need to check again if Rogers got her preggers?" Lavender interrupted, causing both girls to giggle and one pair of eyes to rotate. Two, actually, as Crookshanks had copied that mannerism from his minder.

Hermione's evening preparation ritual of closing the curtains and spelling them silent was interrupted after step one when Parvati continued.

"Probably - but the twins were beaten up by someone," Parvati continued as if no interruption had happened at all.

Hermione pressed her ear to the curtain to catch all they said as Lavender took over. "Guess they pranked the wrong one, huh?"

Parvati giggled in reply. "You can say so - probably a Slytherin. Who else would assemble a hit team for a thing like that?"

"A team?"

"Probably, they were roughed up pretty well, they popped a rib on George, and broke Fred's nose. They refused to tell names, even though his nose will stay a bit crooked."

"So Katie will know when they try to switch girlfriends, again?" Lavender giggled.

When Parvati stated that Katie always knew when the twins did so, Hermione spelled her curtains. After all these years she knew her dorm mates well enough to know that the factual part of a story was now over.

Given those facts, she quickly added up one and one. She didn't believe in coincidence when cause and effect were much more probable.

Her guess was confirmed when some bruises materialized on Ron during or around lunch. She was sure those weren't on his face in the morning, and Harry had been with her all the time.

With the twins giving Harry an unspecific and half-hearted apology about Ron being a lying sack of shit in passing in the common room later that evening, she had all the proof she needed. Ron used them to get back at Harry, and Harry set them straight when they tried to avenge their brother.

Anyway, she knew Harry well enough to know that the immature behaviour of the twins had drawn a line under what could have been a good friendship down the road.

_**ooOOoo**_

Soon, they discovered another strange thing that went straight into Hermione's journal.

The notice-me-not charms didn't hold long on Harry. More than once, Hermione had to suddenly remind Harry to cast a new one during or on the way to class. For some reason, his resistance to that spell was growing, and soon, he had to apply it between classes in order to be sure. The fact that he didn't know when it happened made life in public a bit more complicated, as sitting in the common room or the library was now coupled with the risk of being detected.

Agreeing to take the easy route - and having a lot to research, was their joint excuse - both made themselves scarce in public, only emerging for books, and meals, hurrying along in a fast pace and avoiding all contact to their peers.

After they now spent more time in 'their' room, Hermione completed the layout of the room by transfiguring a desk into a low table to sit next to it, and made Harry arrange a couple of chairs and a study desk for them in the other corner. They had positioned some shelves on a wall, which they filled with some trinkets and books, and found an old, worn-out carpet to make the floor a bit warmer. Literally, as the ancient stone floor was cold to walk on even with shoes still on.

Given the small size of this room, they left it with that, except for one place. They had, with lots of trial and error, managed to transfigure a bench to fit the windowsill, and had the armrests enlarged to cushion the walls, making their favourite snuggle place a lot more comfortable.

Whatever time was not spent practicing or studying was spent cuddling there. The quilt Harry had covered Hermione with that significant night had long been cleaned and repaired by proper spells, and had become a cherished memento to both of them. Hermione vowed to take it home with her when they would leave Hogwarts and never to part from it.

For a finishing touch, they had moved an old tapestry in the hallway a few feet, to in front of their lair's door, for privacy, and since that corridor wasn't used often enough for people to notice the change, they were left undisturbed.

After a few more days, they were forced to add a cat-sized couch to the inventory, when Crookshanks had found out about their hideout. At first, Harry was far from annoyed when Crookshanks started demanding to have his belly scratched by both of them whenever they started snogging. In fact, he was actually glad that the cat had stopped shunning him. It seemed that his new eyes had freaked out the formerly very trusting animal, and it took days for Crookshanks to even accept treats from Harry again.

Still, Harry took his Peaches'-time serious, and this meant Crookshanks had to be convinced to cease and desist. It took a permanent warming charm on the mini-couch to convince - or more exactly bribe - the feline tyrant into using it instead of interrupting their cuddly-time.

_**ooOOoo**_

"It's useless!" Harry shouted as he slammed the big Grimoire shut. Disgusted, he shoved _'1001 Magical Maladies'_ to the side, and let his forehead rest on the cool surface of the table. His head was pounding from poring through the volumes of medical books, trying to find anything, just anything that even slightly resembled his affliction. He closed his eyes and savoured the numbing coldness as it eased his pain.

Hermione reached over to knead his neck with one hand, while she continued scanning her book about potion mishaps. "I know," she sighed. "But what else could we do? You insisted in not going to Pomfrey."

"Because she would have told Dumbledore, and I don't want him to know. I'm still pissed that he uses me as bait in this stupid tournament. I don't trust him to not spin it some way and use it against me somehow," he said, repeating their old argument, although his voice was laced with a low purr at her caress. Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. Harry had grown rather paranoid in his dealing with the Headmaster and everyone in general. He was turning into some kind of hermit who was completely relying on himself and her, and ignoring the rest of the world, even shutting it out.

_**ooOOoo**_

For several weeks now - nearly all of January, to be precise - the both of them had spent every spare minute in 'their' room, reading volume after volume of healing, potions and transfiguration texts, searching for anything that could explain Harry's current state, to no avail.

Some things could explain his senses, but didn't fit the facts, and nothing could explain his changed eyes. They had come to the agreement that they looked reptilian, but there was no spell or potion to manage that feat. Research revealed that there was no medical history of people changing their appearances after surviving a dragon attack. Most changed their personality, including developing fear of fire, loud sounds and shadows being cast on them by clouds, all with a touch of general paranoia; but no one had ever developed heightened senses.

The only good thing that had come out of it was that they both had gained a rather good knowledge of some potions, transfiguration and various healing spells, whose probable usefulness Hermione teased Harry mercilessly with. At one stage, Harry had threatened in jest to bend her over his knee and spank her to break it up. To his shock, Hermione told him - with a waggle of her eyebrows, of course - that she might take him up on this offer, someday - which in turn shut him up quite nicely.

Of course, both still attended classes. They sat together, which at first surprised people, but since the fall-out with Ron over the Goblet had been very public, people started to explain it away. The usual rationale was that Ron had evaded them ever since and none of them had other friends who would sit with them, giving them no other choice. Not surprising, considering Hermione being a nerd and slut and Harry a bloody cheater.

People took it as if they would try to stay at least friends with each other, but everybody would swear that Harry didn't even look at her once during the whole class period. Given the charm on his eyes, no one would ever be able to say what he looked at, but with Hermione's single-minded concentration during class, it fed the rumour that they were just tolerating each other.

Their hermitage went unnoticed for quite a long time, as since there was no Quidditch this year, Harry didn't have to attend practice. Also, most people explained his permanent absence at meals by assuming him to be moping about her, somewhere, or doing tournament stuff. When someone noticed Hermione missing, it was usually rationalized that she was hiding in shame.

The fact that Hermione was only rarely seen, of course in the library, during the days, checking out books by the barrel, just to disappear somewhere secluded, led to rumours that both were trying to avoid people, and they were left alone. Since they left the tower early before breakfast and returned just in time for curfew, people only occasionally saw them together, but no one made the connection.

The year hit an all time low when Hermione rushed into their room one Wednesday, laden with books. Harry took one whiff of air and jumped up to hug her, as her tears fell freely.

"Shhhh, it's alright, I'm here, Peaches," Harry cooed as he guided her towards their cuddle sill. Climbing in without letting the sobbing girl go, he pulled her near and rocked her until she calmed down somewhat.

"So, what happened? Shall I kill Ron?" he said when she was down to sniffles.

"It wasn't him," she said meekly.

"Doesn't matter, it would make you happy," Harry teased with a smile as he hugged her tighter while she snorted in feint laughter.

"Thanks, but no. It's not worth the paperwork we'd have to fill out afterwards," she said with a smile. A short-lived one, as her face fell immediately.

"Remember the latest rumors about me?"

Harry huffed tiredly at her. Funny enough, Hermione had gained a reputation. She got accosted by some guys in the corridors, trying to 'hook up' with an 'easy' witch. Hermione just huffed at them, and ignored them. Of, course, some of them bragged to have had her, and the rumour mill soon had her tainted as an epic slut.

"Another one? I thought you were used to it by now," he sighed. They knew all too well that nothing could be done about it. They were lucky it hadn't hit the Prophet, yet.

"He offered me money," Hermione sobbed.

Harry stiffened, and replied with a single word. "Who?"

"Connors."

"Seventh year, Ravenclaw?" Harry inquired. Hermione nodded weakly in return. She was surprised when Harry lifted her up and deposited her next to him.

"I'll be right back," he said as he rose slowly.

Seeing the cold anger in his face left no doubt in Hermione as to what his intentions were. Immediately, she jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back.

"Let me go," he growled as he tried to shake her off. In response, she slung both her arms around his biceps to keep hold.

"Harry, no, please. He's not worth it," she pleaded at him as he dragged her with him.

"But you are," he said coldly, trying to pry his arm loose. "He's gonna pay," he growled.

Hermione had to hold onto him with both hands as he continued his attempts to break free. Gradually losing this fight, she quickly stepped around and encircled him in her arms to keep him from storming off.

"No, please, I don't want you to get in trouble because of a stupid jerk," she pleaded, pulling herself up an started whispering in his ear, planting small kisses on his neck in order to distract him of his plans.

"First no killing Ron, and now you won't even let me rip that jerk's arm off and beat him to death with it," Harry protested weakly as she nibbled at his neck. "I'd say that you're no fun, but I'm enjoying myself too much right now to truthfully claim so," he purred as he effortlessly picked her up and carried her back to their window.

Later that evening, Hermione made a note in her 'Harry journal' about his aggressive protectiveness of her. She couldn't keep herself from doodling hearts around that entry, though.

A Hogsmeade weekend came and went by as they both chose to stay in the castle instead of being subjected to their peers' whispers all day in town. A bit later, Harry finally received an answer to his letter to Sirius, to which he replied instantly. At Hermione's insistence, he also included their known facts about his current health situation, but with a plea to keep it silent.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I call this thing quits for now, Peaches," Harry half sighed, half moaned, his head still on the table, while her fingers were doing their own magic on his neck. "The second task is closing in, and we still have no clue about that screeching egg," he whined, and gave _'1001 Maladies'_ another disdainful shove.

Hermione made a note of the page number in a small notebook she carried for that reason, and carefully closed the tome on her side of the desk. "That's fair and all, but we tried nearly everything, and still have no clue what the hint is," she said, turning to face him.

"Yeah, but I do have to start training for it, it's in just about four weeks time," he whined. "Maybe some defence or some general useful charms, so that I'm at least somewhat prepared for stuff," he huffed, and Hermione switched from kneading his neck to stroking his back in a comforting manner.

Giving him a light pat on the shoulder, she stood and went for the door. "I'll get you some _light reading_, then," she told him over her shoulder with a coy smirk, and vanished for the depths of her most cherished labyrinth. Harry didn't even bother to growl at her…

_**ooOOoo**_

Three more weeks went by, and they still didn't have a clue about the egg. While Hermione was very glad about Harry's new study habits, she was conflicted about his applications.

Being slightly under pressure and having gone through all defence related books whose spells he was able to cast and not locked away in the restricted section, Harry had begun to look into ways to use other spells he knew in a fight. After he had started to look into potentially lethal applications for cleaning charms, Hermione had decided to pull a stop before he started going full mad scientist mode.

"Come, Harry, let's take a break," she whispered as she gave his shoulder a tender caress.

He gave a short sigh. "Just a few minutes, Hermione, I think I'm starting to make progress with the _Scourgify _charm," he pleaded.

"And because of that, you have to stop now. I'm starting to worry about you, love," she cooed in his ear, taking his hand and pulling him after her. He at first dragged his feet, but as she fetched the quilt and headed over to their windowsill, he cooperated. Reasoning that he had earned himself a reward for his determination, she shoved him onto their spot and proceeded to crawl onto him, straddling his hips for the first time ever.

_'No, certainly no selfish reasons,'_ she thought as she could feel him against her inner thighs, knowing that only some thin layers of cloth separated her from the one part of his anatomy that had recently become a central part of her dreams. Moaning in anticipation, she pressed herself against his chest and hungrily devoured his lips.

It took only a few seconds for Mother Nature to take control over Harry. A few moments later, Hermione became aware of the increasing pressure against a very sensitive part of her anatomy. At first, she savoured that interesting feeling, until she recognized the cause.

Harry was very confused when she had suddenly rocked back, away from him. When she started to stare at the bulge in his crotch, he realized the reason.

"Oh Bollocks! I'm sorry! Please, don't be mad, I couldn't help it," Harry choked as she started to cry softly.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cooed breathlessly, reaching out at his cheek, to caress it and turn it up to look at her eyes. "I'm not mad. I'm a bit overwhelmed," she said, which earned her a questioning glance.

"Is... that..." - she motioned vaguely in the direction of his hips at this - "really because of me?"

Harry looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

"I mean," she muttered, "I could understand if you were thinking about some other, more attractive girl while..." she started, lowering her face and looking ready to cry, when Harry stopped her by covering her lips with a finger.

"Do I have to hit you to keep you from insulting my girlfriend?" Harry growled at her. "I was just busy enjoying being with you when you interrupted me because of your unfounded insecurities," he told her, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asked in a voice laden with doubt.

Harry was tempted to point at his crotch in a repeating way, pointing out the obvious, but decided to be a bit more supportive and stuff. "I think the facts speak for themselves," he chuckled as he pulled her closer, but avoided more awkwardness by guiding her to a rest on his side. "You're beautiful, really."

Hermione cuddled into his arm, but couldn't keep from huffing. She knew that her hair was what others would call a mop, and her waist was barely slimmer than her chest - which was off-set by her rather wide butt, giving her a pear-shape instead of the wanted hourglass. If she had the knockers of Lavender or Bones, she might look good, in a chubby way, but she lacked like two sizes for that. Only the Patils and Ginny had less, but were just half her size to make up for it. She knew that she wasn't eye-candy, so she had a hard time believing him.

"Come on, Peaches - what is it?" Harry gently cajoled her. When she just shrugged, he made a shirty sigh, the universal man-code for "WOMEN!"

"Just look at me - I'm no match for the other girls. I don't look good, I'm available, that's all," she huffed, lashing out at him, but without much effect, as Harry could easily smell that she didn't really mean it, but was acting out of fear, instead. In a rare display of insight, he realized that she had just bared her greatest fear, that she was just something to tide him over, until something better would come along. Little did she know that she was already the best he could imagine.

"I don't know about others, but I do remember how great your body had looked," Harry told her softly, catching her eyes with his, smiling as she blushed at the mention of that incident.

"I can tell you that there is nothing wrong with it from my point of view. And you are my very best friend, bar none. Just trust me when I say that to me, you are beautiful, in every conceivable way," he said, his watery eyes proving that every word spoken was true to him as he leaned in for a kiss.

While she still couldn't see it his way, Hermione would certainly not argue against her own interests, so she accepted the kiss and with a happy sigh, she returned it with increasing vigour, deciding that if he really felt that way, she would refresh some parts of that memory, soon.

_**ooOOoo**_

After Hermione had stopped Harry so efficiently, she had put down her foot that Harry would stop training for the last week. She stated that he would need to relax a bit, lest he might fall asleep during the task. Relenting, he agreed to take a walk around the lake after class. Given it was the middle of February, not many students were anywhere remote from the common rooms and their fireplaces, so they didn't have much traffic to expect. Harry still donned his now customary notice-me-not charm before they left and navigated through the maze of Hogwarts hallways.

"Harry? HARRY!" a voice sounded behind them as they reached the second floor. Turning, Harry saw Cedric Diggory approaching fast.

"Finally! I've been trying to talk to you for weeks now. You're hard to find, Harry," Cedric smiled at him, his eyes trying to find something in Harry's face to lock on.

Whenever he tried to make eye contact, his attention was shifted away by the charm, and when he looked down, he took a double take at their entwined hands. "Oh!" he said, looking confused at Hermione.

"Just nasty rumours," Hermione explained as calm as she could. "We ignore them, since they guarantee our privacy."

"Oh!" Cedric repeated. "Well, good for you, I guess. But, listen, I still owe you one for the dragons. Did you solve the wailing egg already?"

At their sombre shake of heads, he continued. "Well, then I guess you should ponder the riddle in a nice bath, with the egg, of course," he winked at Harry. "You know the Prefect's bath at the fifth floor?" Harry nodded. Of course he did, it was like three doors down their hideout. "The password is pine-fresh, Harry. Well, nice to meet you, and good luck. Harry, Hermione..."

With that, he nodded them both goodbye and left.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed as soon as Cedric was gone. "Do you understand what that means?" she laughed, embracing Harry with a smile.

"That our walk has been cancelled?" he pouted, and quickly continued as she started winding up to hit him. "Ok, ok, I'll go and take a bath," he relented and turned to head for Gryffindor Tower.

She grabbed his arm. "We will," she corrected as she fell in step with him. "We've wasted enough time and I might need to hear it in original for secluded hints."

Harry had to gulp, as his mouth had went dry at the thought of her and him in a bathtub. "You know, Hermione," he started, stumbling over his words. "It's a bathroom, and a tub. I don't think you would like to - together, I mean," he rambled, slightly uncomfortable.

She gave a girlish laugh at his shyness, and hurried him along to their dorm. "Don't be foolish! Ever heard of swimsuits?"

_**ooOOoo**_

About fifteen minutes later, a bedazzled Harry was sitting in the enormous pool that was in the prefect's bathroom.

As soon as they had entered, Hermione had proclaimed that this room alone was reason enough to be prefect. The bathtub, if you could call the at least twenty feet long and about half as wide pool that, was sporting benches on the underwater walls to sit and soak. There were dozens of golden taps around the edges, each for a different kind of soaped water as they found out, and even a diving-board! Pre-warmed fluffy towels were hung on the walls, mirrors, basins, soaps, creams and what have you. All was lit by a stupidly large chandelier.

But all that luxury wasn't the cause for his bedazzlement. He had chucked his robes off and waded into the bath, like Hermione had told him to. When he turned around, he had expected to see her in one of those very modest one-piece suits that some of the girls used in early summer at the Great Lake. He had been looking forward to that ever since Hermione insisted on joining him.

But what she revealed exceeded his wildest expectations by far. A black bikini! A bikini - and not just a run of the mill bikini, it was patches of fabric tied together with strings! Even the bottom was tied at the sides! This style would have been regarded as a bit prudish on the French beaches Hermione has spent her summers at, but it was definitely having an effect on Harry. It was a good thing Hermione was too straight-laced to wear a thong, as Harry's head would probably have exploded.

Right in front of him, two triangles – neither much bigger than one of his palms - were covering Hermione's chest. Not that he would admit to wanting to confirm his estimation by laying his hands on them.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Please hurry, we can deal with your stray thoughts later, ok?" She said as she smiled at him in a way that made him glad that he was chest-deep under water, not that it could hide his blush spreading over all of his body.

About a minute later, they had found out how to listen to the wails of egg, which turned out to be a song when listened to under the water. It took Hermione only a few moments to deduce the meaning from the lyrics.

"Obviously, that task will take place in the lake, and if I am right, you will have to retrieve something from there within an hour, Harry," she stated with conviction.

Harry knew that if he had been here alone, it would have taken him at least said hour to solve that puzzle, but was wise enough not to admit that and instead just agreed with her interpretation.

"Quite possible - now my biggest concern is how not to drown before I get ten feet into the lake," he dryly stated as he was swimming some laps in the pool, just to deal with the urge to do something.

"And hypothermia. The lake will be freezing cold, you'd drown in less than a few seconds," Hermione added absentmindedly as she stood and walked to one of the benches to sit down. The casual delivery of that fact and the distraction by wiggling body parts caused Harry to miss a stroke and swallow water.

"Are you trying to kill me out of mercy?" Harry coughed out as he tried to expel the water from his lungs. The only reply was a bright laugh from across the pool. "At least I won't freeze to death here," he grumbled as he regained control of his lungs. "And you are not making it sound any better, you know?"

"That's what warming charms are for, Harry," Hermione waved his comments off. "How about a bubblehead charm, the one the upper class students use when dung bombs are set off?" Hermione continued, ignoring his rant.

"I doubt I'd be able to manage that spell," Harry admitted as he walked over. "It's like, what - sixth year, seventh?"

"It is a continuous replenishing conjuration, and is in the sixth year syllabus," Hermione recounted instinctively. "And far above what we have learned so far, I'm afraid," she agreed in a small voice.

"Ok, it might be too hard, but I've read about a spell that grows you gills in one of the books on human transfiguration I had read researching you eyes, Harry. It's only a partial transfiguration, and already packaged into a charm, so you should be able to manage that with a bit of training," Hermione pointed out happily.

"Fine, I trust you with that. Maybe we'll look into some Potions, too," Harry agreed. "But what would they hide in there? Something I sorely miss - my broom? That would be horrible - they say that it's gone if I fail to retrieve it in time," he continued, feeling more that slightly unsettled about that.

"I don't know. It's rather vague," Hermione answered truthfully. "It could be anything. But I think you'll be doing fine. You managed a dragon, how bad could a lake be?" she smiled, trying to lift his spirit.

"You know, the more I think about that, the less I like that task," Harry moped, still sitting on one of the benches in the shallow end.

"We'll deal with that later," Hermione purred as she glided through the water and onto his lap, straddling him much like earlier today. Harry was sure that the water around him would start to sizzle any moment - he never had blushed that hot before. As she gently pulled his hands onto her bum, and started kissing him, all thought was banned and instinct took over in a most eager way.

When Hermione started whispering into his ear it took a while to register with him. At first, she asked him to promise to keep his hands on her bottom at all times, no matter what might happen. Of course, he agreed to that, he hadn't planned to remove them from there, anyway.

But then she whispered something about her bikini bottom being transfigured knickers, but her top being conjured, and that she did that about 40 minutes ago. At first, he was a bit annoyed that she would bring such useless information into his favourite pastime, spoiling his fun with her love of facts and learning.

Then he remembered that none of her conjurations had ever lasted more than 45 minutes. Precisely two minutes and thirteen seconds later, Harry was a very happy camper...

_***** A week later *** **_

"Ginny!"

The girl in question stopped and turned for the source, and noticed Harry rushing down the corridor towards her. Before she could answer his call, he was by her side already, coming to an easy stop. Looking at him, she was a bit confused about his eyes, a feeling that was usual these days. She remembered them being so green and soulful, but since that trouble with Hermione, they were somehow, well, occluded, like they were hidden from the world. She kept thinking that she might be the one who could make him cheer up again and put that life back into his beautiful eyes.

"Have you seen Hermione?" he asked, much to her confusion. Why would he want to see that slut? Ron had told her how bad that girl had turned out to be. She never would have believed that this nice girl could be so cruel to Harry and her brother.

"No." She replied simply before elaborating further. "She is usually gone early in the morning. I went by her dorm and she wasn't in there, no one was, so she must have left, already."

Just as she was about to inquire about why he wanted to know, he muttered a harsh curse and dashed off again, yelling a curt "Thanks!" over his shoulder. Shaking her head and muttering about boys, she resumed her walk down to breakfast, briefly wondering where her brother was when she didn't spot him on the table, which he usually left last, just in time for lesson.

_**ooOOoo **_

Meanwhile, Harry was in a full-grown panic. Hermione had not shown up for their early breakfast in the kitchen. After a short wait with the absolute minimum of food forced onto his nervous stomach, he ran off to look for her in the library, but without success. He tried their room, and found it empty. For good measure, he sprinted back to the library once more, since it was Hermione he was looking for.

When he turned up empty-handed once more, he ran for the common room, stumbling over Ginny in front of the Fat Lady's Portrait. After she had confirmed Hermione not being in the dorm, he rushed off to breakfast, again, only remembering his manners enough to thank her while already in motion.

Now, he was back in the Great Hall, and McGonagall had just flagged him down and told him to get ready and be at the lake in fifteen minutes. Hoping that Hermione would show up there, he went to get changed for the task.

_**ooOOoo **_

_**AN:**_

"We shouldn't let him watch movies anymore," the accountant told embirsiphonelilathia as they rushed into the safe-room and closed the door behind them.

"Since that movie, he runs around in strange clothes with his dyed hair and offers everyone a shave! He promised me that it would be the closest I ever had, with a strange glint in his eyes!" he shuddered.

Embirsiphonelilathia glared back at him. "You got it good. Imagine - he did that with me a few minutes ago. I am still not sure whether he was trying to hit on me or if I should feel insulted!"

_**ooOOoo**_

Again, many thanks to my betas, embi and alix for making this desecration of grammar a readable experience.

And if you wonder, yes, this Author is a fan of Sweeney Todd (who would have thought...) and does own several straight blade razors (now that's surprising, isn't it?) he uses daily. (To SHAVE! I use spoons to kill my victims!)

Singled out minions:

twilliams1797 - you really cracked me up - thanks, I really needed that.


	6. Don't stand between me and my girl!

**Disclaimer:** My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 5: Don't stand between me and my girl!**

"Welcome to the second task, Ladies and Gentlemen!" Bagman's voice sounded over the lake. Harry and his fellow champions stood on a floating platform at the lake shore, the stands full of spectators and students rising over and behind them. Only magic made it possible to have them erected overnight, with no one the wiser.

Harry still hadn't seen the tiniest hint of Hermione, and was rather nervous. Walking up and down the middle of the small tent at the beach, he was desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. After some fruitless minutes of pacing, he lifted his head to take a look at his co-contestants. Krum was looking smugly at him, his eyes focussed on Harry in a way that made his blood boil in irritated anger. Cedric, on the other hand, was staring at the lake in concern. Harry could sympathize with that. He still had no idea what would wait for them, down there. The normal inhabitants of the lake were bad enough - only one beach was deemed safe to swim - but who knew what else they had brought in for the task. _'Probably something Hagrid would claim to be just misunderstood,'_he thought acerbically.

When he noticed that the usually proud and aloof Fleur was actually crying softly, a stray, but horrible, thought made his guts freeze.

"Today, each of the champions has to rescue a hostage from the lake!" Bagman's voice called out, proving his fears true. Harry nearly keeled over when the last piece fell into the puzzle. _'Hermione is in there!'_ it shot though his mind, as panic and anger rushed through his veins at the realization of how much danger she was in. While the man continued to explain the task, Harry blanched as he remembered the last line of the puzzle. _'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.'_

It was good that the cannon sounded the start of the task right then, or Harry would have jumped the gun. He dropped his cloak, wearing only his swimming trunks and a warming charm under it, and transfigured his neck as Hermione had taught him to, over the last days in the prefect's bath. Although that transfiguration wasn't as permanent as it should have been, it lasted easily for two hours, giving him more than enough time to finish this task. When he already had launched himself into the lake and started diving, the other contestants were still half-dressed.

Taking a deep gulp of water, he started swimming as fast as he could, kicking his legs as he surged forward and deeper, passing the shallow coastal area and getting into the deep black pit in the middle of the lake. He had expected to see little to nothing, but to his eyes, the whole lake was a black and white picture, and the lack of light didn't faze him at all. It just seemed a bit distorted, which he blamed on the moving water.

Also, his ears were able to pick up a faint sound from ahead, behind a patch of eelgrass that stretched out in front of him. Stopping for a moment to make those out better, he suddenly recognized that noise - while he couldn't understand the words, someone was clearly chanting the song he knew from the egg! Swimming towards the already familiar song from the depth, Harry nearly didn't notice the Grindylows hiding in the sea-grass in front of him. As he came closer, one of them had jumped the gun and started swimming towards him, its spindly fingers twitching in anticipation, its movement giving their position away. Behind him, a swarm of more than a dozen others were following, malice in their bizarre faces.

Thanks to Hermione, he was prepared for that. He quickly cast a _Silencio halo,_a silencing charm variant, at himself, surrounding his body with a bubble of silence, and then angled his wand at them. A few more had joined the first group in the advance on him, all of them flexing their spindly fingers constantly, wanting to claw his flesh, and baring their teeth. Not stopping his own advance for even a second, he cast a cannon blast charm.

Hermione had come up with that tactic, talking about submarines and something called _'death charges'_ or so, which were used against them and very effective under water. Her theory was that the sound waves of that upscaled version of a firecracker charm, which did noting but to produce an ear-splitting bang would work much like a stick of dynamite in the water.

At first, Harry didn't believe that this would have much effect, but agreed to a test run in the prefect's bathroom. After that, he was glad that Hermione insisted on the first of the two spells, protecting him from the sound waves. Still chuckling at her overprotectiveness, he had dived and cast the spell. The resulting splash hit the ceiling, and swept Hermione clean off her feet. It took them nearly half an hour to remove the equivalent of half the bathing pool from other areas of the room. That these both spells had been rather easy to cast and didn't suffer much from the incantation being muffled from casting underwater was an added bonus.

He had promoted the spell to be his first and best weapon, as it was an area effect, but Hermione had warned him that depending on the distance, it might as well be fatal, so he should use this combination only in dire emergencies.

Well, she was a hostage in a over thousand feet deep lake, and would survive for only an hour. For Harry, this was justification enough.

He could feel the shock wave beat his bubble of silence, throwing him back a bit without harming him, as the sonic waves rushed through the water. Unimpeded, he cancelled the silencing charm and swam straight through the flock of water demons, which were either doubled up and twitching, or floating lifelessly, being unconscious or maybe dead. He didn't care - Hermione was out there.

Up on the surface, the whole crowd of spectators cried out in surprise when a geyser of water suddenly erupted in the formerly so silent water of the lake. The smaller students huddled together in panic, not knowing what had caused the fountain of water, and many hands were pointing out at the lake, with people discussing the events they were able to witness. Suddenly, the cries again swelled in intensity as they noticed a lone figure drifting in the water, not far from where the explosion had been.

Broomstick fliers quickly dispatched and zoomed out to the motionless figure in order to give assistance. Quickly, it was slung between the brooms and hauled away to the tent where Madam Pomfrey was hastily readying potion supplies. While there was a commotion at the judge box, more than one spectator was wondering loudly why the figure had a fish head.

Harry meanwhile had reached an underwater cliff, following the sound in the depth. Without pause, he crossed it and dived deeper, towards something that looked like a shipwreck, and then further into the lake's centre, knowing that the sound would lead him to his most precious.

He swam with every ounce of strength he possessed, and had passed the giant squid before they both had even noticed each other. Startled, it came out of the shipwreck, looking for that elusive nuisance and seeing it head for the Merpeople town in the distance. Not willing to give chase, it settled back into its ambush position.

When he finally found the Merpeople's settlement, all he really saw was her. Four figures were tied to pillars at the town square, or whatever the open area in the middle would represent. All of them were dangling on long ropes, much like balloons, and seemed to be asleep. Noticing her unmistakable hair floating in the water, he knew instantly where she was. Approaching fast, he noticed a group of mermen sitting on the ground near the pillars. Of course, his approach was noticed, as well, and one by one, they rose and watched him.

Ignoring them, he went straight for Hermione, and started pulling at the knot that secured her to the pillar, but no matter how hard he pulled; neither the rope nor the knot budged an inch. Harry went to look for a sharp stone to cut the rope. Sadly, the only ones lying around were round and polished, as was to be expected under water.

Meanwhile, the Merpeople had started chattering in a rapid series of clicking and screeching voices.

Frustrated, Harry abandoned his search and returned to the pillars. There, he pulled his wand and sent a cutter at the rope holding Hermione. Using water instead of air in his voice box had the effect that his incantations were really garbled and muffled, but the cutter came out just right enough and sliced the rope right next to the knot. As she started to float upwards, her robes were billowing around; much like Snape's used to.

Harry quickly swam to catch her. At this point, one of the Merpeople finally had enough of the talking and grabbed his trident. Screeching something that sounded less than friendly, he quickly swam towards them, catching the end of the severed rope. This seemingly was the incentive the others had needed to advance, as well.

Instead of engaging in a tug-o-war, Harry let go of Hermione and instead ripped the trident out of his assailant's free hand, quickly jabbing the handle back into his face. That action resulted in a multitude of things. First, the Merman curled up and screeched muffled through the hands covering his bleeding face. Harry absentmindedly noticed that they bled green as Hermione was now freely floating upwards, again. Harry would have loved to join her, but had more pressing things demanding his attention.

He turned the weapon around and pointed it in the direction of the approaching horde. Quickly realizing that he was quite outnumbered and surrounding them was no option, he changed his plans. Throwing the trident into the ground in front of them and pulling the downed Merman up, Harry put his wand to his hostage's head. This dissuaded the others from their intentions, as they immediately came to a full stop and pointed their weapons away from Harry. Hands were raised in pacifying gestures, and the screeching became much calmer.

Harry started flipping his feet to intercept Hermione on her ascension. Once he had put some distance between the group and him, he released the Merman, who slowly dropped down. The other Mermen retrieved their friend and quickly fell back and gave up the chase, while Harry caught Hermione and headed to the surface.

Exactly thirty-two minutes after the start of the task, Harry broke through the surface of the lake, eliciting a cheer from the crowd. Gasping for water, he sunk back below and pulled Hermione towards the platforms. Strong hands of the Aurors placed there for general police presence at the events grabbed Hermione and him, pulling them on board and wrapping him in a blanket. Harry cancelled the transfiguration and was rewarded by the already well known urge to evacuate the water from his lungs.

After he finished the painful heaving, he stretched out on the wooden dock, panting hard, and closed his eyes for a few moments as Pomfrey cast a few charms on him to ease his suffering. Harry absent-mindedly noticed that she was using different spells than the book they had found the transfiguration in had advised for this. They helped a lot better than those Hermione had cast during their training.

_**ooOOoo **_

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall's voice rose over the din, making him open his eyes.

When he saw Dumbledore and the other judges approaching them, his anger burst free. "Which idiot decided on using hostages? Are you people crazy? She could have drowned, you bunch of idiots!" he snarled. Meanwhile, Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione, probably to wake her from the stasis she was in.

"Mister Potter, I can assure you that the hostages were perfectly safe. I placed them there myself and made sure that no harm would befall them," Dumbledore told Harry, but was interrupted when Hermione gave a cough, waking. Harry nearly hurled himself at her, embracing her tightly, shivering as the tension slowly bled off. Soon she recognised him and returned the hug, both trying to give and gain warmth and comfort from each other.

"What happened? Where am I? Why am I wet?" she asked, sounding afraid and confused.

Harry stopped and leaned back. "You were my hostage for the task, darling," he softly said.

"She was Krum's hostage, Mister Potter. You rescued the wrong hostage," Professor McGonagall interjected.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked his Head of House, looking at her as if she were daft. Hermione mirrored his look.

"You were supposed to rescue Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered in her stead. "Miss Granger was designated as Mr. Krum's hostage," he told him, while Karkaroff started yelling about his champion being sabotaged in his task.

"And why, pray tell, should I rescue that stupid git over my girlfriend?" Harry snarled, which made Karkaroff shut up, McGonagall gasp and Dumbledore sputter.

"Your girlfriend? But, you broke up and she was with Mr. Krum…" he began, only to be cut off, fiercely by Harry.

"Rumours and lies! I've been with her since before the ball!" he all but screamed at the man. Hermione was still too baffled to do more than to look confused.

"But Mr. Weasley…" Dumbledore interjected, and blanched at the response.

"That idiot has ceased being my friend after the ball, when he tried to punch Hermione! That git can drown down there, that's fine with me!" Harry yelled, and McGonagall and Dumbledore were looking at each other in horror at his outburst. There had been some serious mistake in the choosing process, obviously.

"Maybe we should take this to a more appropriate venue," Dumbledore spoke as he noticed that most of the spectators' ears were hanging on every word they spoke.

Pomfrey didn't have to be asked twice, and immediately started herding her two charges into the tent.

Arriving in there, Harry and Hermione didn't even have the chance to get a single word in edgewise before both where handed a flask with pepper-up potion. Under the steady and unwavering gaze of Pomfrey, they exchanged a look, shrugged and knocked it back. Hermione cringed as she felt a long jet of steam exit her ears, never a pleasant experience. Harry, however, only emitted two or three puffs, without any sign of physical discomfort.

"So, which bloody idiot decided on Hermione being Krum's hostage?" Harry demanded as soon as he had returned the flask to Pomfrey. The very same nearly dropped it when she heard how Harry spoke to his 'betters'.

McGonagall's first impulse was to chastise the boy for his rude public outburst, but she knew that given the situation, even harsher words would have been justified, and since she had some personal opinions, as well, she let that comment slide.

Dumbledore seemed to have come to the same conclusion as his Deputy. "Well, she went to the ball with him, and they were rumoured to be romantically entangled for some time, so Headmaster Karkaroff suggested her," Dumbledore replied factually and innocently, his face only showing signs of confusion, but his voice betraying his well hidden mirth. Madame Maxime only shrugged her shoulders in reply, and left the tent, probably to continue waiting for her contestant, while Karkaroff was visibly seething at being dubbed with this titular.

"Didn't want to let one of his own students drown, didn't he?" Harry huffed, turning the knife in the wound, his look not wavering as Karkaroff glared daggers at him, before he abruptly turned and left the tent. "Did you know anything about being a hostage for Krum?" he asked Hermione softly, casually and most demonstratively, at the same time, turning his back to all others present.

"Of course not, I'd never had agreed to something like that," Hermione replied, still looking confused.

"So they did ask you? When?" Harry demanded.

"Early this morning," she replied, finally starting to look more like herself. "Yes, rather early, today. Professor McGonagall woke me before dawn and escorted me to the Headmaster's office."

"Before dawn?" Harry repeated with acridity, his gaze darting towards the assembled professors.

"You certainly realize that it wouldn't do to have the contestants alarmed of the task's content," Headmaster Dumbledore spoke. "Thus, and to spare them unnecessary unease, the hostages were only asked the night before the task. Miss Granger had been with you the evening before, so we couldn't separate her without you noticing, so we had to fall back on the morning. Alas, I now know that I should have been more precise in my line of questioning. I merely asked if she would be willing to play the hostage for her boyfriend, and explained her the task, but never chose to specify whom I suspected her boyfriend to be."

"And setting me up with Ronald 'I hit girls' Weasley as the one I'd miss most?" he growled in a way that made Hermione instinctively step closer and put her hand into the crook of his arm. The Professors looked a bit puzzled by that reaction, but did not comment. Not that they had a chance to do so. "Ever since my name was drawn, he wanted nothing to do with me anymore, and since he tried to beat up Hermione, I hate his guts! How could you think he'd be the one I miss most?"

"To be honest, he was chosen as your hostage the very day your name was drawn. It was like a foregone conclusion to all the Professors present," Dumbledore admitted. "Once again, we were wrong."

"You know what they say about assuming," Harry huffed.

"Mister Potter!" Professor McGonagall barked, her willingness to ignore bad behaviour depleted and her indignation most visible, but Dumbledore quickly silenced her.

"Please, Professor, Harry here is spot on with his assessment, I really managed to make a magnificent... bum... out of us," he chuckled under the disapproving look of his Deputy.

Harry was only just gaining momentum. "You don't know half of it!" he all but yelled. "As if it weren't bad enough, already with all these rumours about Hermione and me circulating! By tomorrow morning, half Hogwarts will also be convinced that I'm also a poofter!"

"While I can understand your predicament, I do not approve of the use of pejoratives, Mister Potter," Dumbledore chided sharply, before returning to the soft grandfather voice he had used before.

"Miss Granger, Mister Potter. I am well aware of the pressure that has been put upon both of you this year, both by your peers as well as by me…" he started, and made a short pause in his speech when he caught the eye of Harry.

"I feel like I have to apologize for not handling the rumour mill and the adversity you both have received this year properly. I thought these rumours to be short-lived and would die down, soon, and thus ignored them. But by not stomping those rumours out, I unknowingly helped them spread and grow. For this, I apologize."

When Hermione gave him a short nod of acceptance, he decided to settle for that and then set his eyes on Harry, who was still glaring at him.

"I also have to apologize to you, Mr. Potter. I have done nothing to help you with the task you were forced into, and did not do enough against the scorn of your peers you received, but didn't deserve for this. Although you currently do not believe it, I am truly on your side and want to help you," he finished, but still didn't get any reaction from the frowning boy. Harry was still simmering in anger, and Merlin knew what he would do if he weren't restrained by his girlfriend. It hadn't escaped him that the simple gesture of touching his arm had taken most of the wind out of the boy's sails.

Resigning to not getting any further right now, Dumbledore left it be. "I think it'd be best if you would go to the infirmary for a general check-up, just in case," he dismissed the students. "Madame Pomfrey will be with you as soon as the last two contestants have finished their task." Smiling serenely, he watched the children stand up and leave. He would talk to them later, he thought.

_**ooOOoo**_

Half an hour later, Harry and Hermione were cuddling in 'Harry's bed', while Krum was sleeping a bit further away, still under the influence of whatever Pomfrey had given him. Harry had quite an inkling from the various smells he could make out, but he had more important things at hand than wondering about the boy.

"They're coming," Harry suddenly said. They jumped up just in time before the door opened. Still, both were blushing madly when their teachers, followed by some more people walked in.

"Hey Cedric, everything gone well?" Harry called out as he saw his fellow contestant hobble in, followed by Headmaster Karkaroff, who ignored everyone and made a bee-line for his still sleeping student.

Cedric shot him a pained smile as he made his way to a bed at the opposite side. "Not as well as for you," he stated. "I got Cho out in time, with a couple of minutes to spare, but the Giant Squid gave my leg a solid handshake," he said as he pointed at the bandage around his ankle.

"Ouch," Hermione winced.

"Yeah, but it's not too bad - Cho will make it worth it," Cedric joked, ignoring Hermione rolling her eyes as he winked at a grinning Harry.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we have some questions for Mister Potter," Dumbledore interrupted their banter, looking rather serious. "Mister Potter, can you please elaborate why you injured the chief's son and took him hostage?" he asked.

"Chief? Son?"

"Excuse me. My fault. When the Merpeople returned the not rescued hostages, the chief complained that you had attacked his son. He claimed that you broke his facial gills," Dumbledore exclaimed.

"You mean the one that attacked me was the chief's son?"

"Attacked? The chief claimed that his son merely politely informed you that you were dealing with the wrong hostage, and when he reached you, you attacked him, before threatening his friends while you retreated to the surface," Dumbledore replied, cocking his head as he pondered the situation.

"So that snarling and hissing was polite? Headmaster, when someone charges at me with a weapon in hand while screaming bloody murder in a foreign language, I will assume the worst and defend myself," Harry stated with finality.

"Oh, so you don't speak Mermish? Strange. How did you decipher the clue, then?" Dumbledore asked incredulously.

"Albus, we had the clue translated to an intelligible version - apart from you, almost nobody speaks Mermish!" McGonagall interjected, looking quite a bit miffed at her superior's antics.

The Headmaster looked slightly surprised by that. "Not? What a pity, people don't know what they miss. Especially their poetry is something to behold." Shaking off his surprise, he continued talking. "I guess that settles this matter. It was a simple misunderstanding. I shall endeavour to explain this to the Merpeople for you, and apologize in your name, if that is alright with you," he asked, not really expecting an answer, while Headmaster Karkaroff glared indignantly from his champion's bed.

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry replied evenly.

"Where is the Delacour girl?" Hermione inquired. Of course, she had noticed the girl, her Headmistress and whoever had been the hostage missing in the room. "Is she alright?"

"She is well, she is currently in the Beauxbatons carriage, with her sister," Professor McGonagall replied. "Madame Maxime thought it would be the best to keep the girls together in a familiar environment in order to calm them down."

"What happened?"

"She ran into a school of very enraged Grindylows that roughed her up pretty well," Dumbledore informed them.

"Oh," Harry chuckled "That was probably my fault."

"How comes?" inquired Professor McGonagall, while both Headmasters present had also perked up at that statement.

"Harry! You didn't?" Hermione asked incredulously, her eyes wide as it began to dawn on her.

"I did." The words were spoken without any remorse. Hermione blanched as he did so, her hand clutching her bosom in shock.

"Oh my... But why?" she gasped.

"You were down there. They were in my way," Harry replied without even batting an eyelid.

"He did what?" McGonagall interrupted them.

"I used a cannonblast charm," Harry explained evenly.

"It is a variation of the bang charm, with a massive _Sonorous _on top," Hermione completed the explanation, looking a bit greenish as she did so.

McGonagall staggered as she heard that. Grasping her heart, as well, she gasped a reply. "Mister Potter, do you have any idea what such a spell could result in under water?"

"In fact, I now very precisely do have, Professor," Harry said with a smirk. "It probably killed half of the group that attacked me, but I had a _Silencio halo _around myself to protect me, don't worry. Hermione here insisted that this would be necessary, and rightfully so," he said, planting a kiss on top of Hermione's head.

Cedric rose from the elbow he had rested on in his bed. "That thump was you?" he gasped. When Harry nodded with a broad smile, Cedric let an expletive fly that resulted in an immediate reprimand by McGonagall.

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor. But Harry, mate! That was scary as hell - I nearly soiled my shorts when that Bludger hit me, thought they might have brought Jörmungandr to the lake!" the boy gasped.

"The Midgard Snake," Hermione whispered when she saw that Harry had drawn a blank on that name.

"I see," Professor McGonagall replied warily, seeking support by Headmaster Dumbledore with a glance, but getting only a shrug in reply. Before they could continue the conversation, the door was slammed shut. A quick glance revealed that Headmaster Karkaroff was missing, and the probable culprit of the forceful exit. Exchanging another glance and shrug, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore chose to ignore this, as well.

"Well, then, Mister Potter, you are free to leave once Madam Pomfrey had another look at you. Miss Granger, the same for you. On separate beds," Professor McGonagall said, and left, with both the Professors walking over to talk to Pomfrey, who was currently working at Cedric's leg.

Harry and Hermione had just enough time to settle into comfortable seats on a bed, each, before the door flew open explosively.

"I want this boy arrested," Headmaster Karkaroff barked at the two Aurors in his wake, pointing at Harry.

Harry's most eloquent reply was a stunned "Huh?" - which was what everybody else was currently thinking, as well.

The mystery was in part revealed when one of the Aurors stepped forward. "I'm Auror Wigfield. Mister Potter, this man has brought forward some serious accusations against you," she explained, pointing at Headmaster Karkaroff.

For Karkaroff, this wasn't going fast enough. "He tried to murder Victor! Arrest him!" he ordered loudly.

For a second, there was a baffled silence, before Harry exploded. "What?" he roared, and only Hermione's quick reflexes in catching his arm kept him from jumping up and tearing Karkaroff a new one. "Isn't there anything useful for you to do instead of bothering me with this sodding shite?"

"Mister Potter!" The reprimand came from four different throats, in varying degrees of sharpness. If you had good ears, you might even have made out the soft, habitual "Language, Harry," among it.

Harry didn't show an ounce of repentance, just about the opposite, as he finally gave way to the rant that had been building for quite some time. "You have the nerve to carpet me? What's wrong with you people? I've been nearly killed about every year I've been in this school, and now some crazy homicidal arsehole has entered me in this thrice damned sodding tournament of yours so the tasks might do the work for him, and you try to hush me? You made me fight a dragon! You nearly drowned my girlfriend in that damned lake and made me risk my life to get her back to safety, and now you want to put charges on me because some stupid jerk in the same tournament was hurt? A tournament that was abandoned because too many people were killed in it? Are you fucking out of your minds?" he roared, finishing with a raspy cough.

Everybody in the room was staring at him.

Professor McGonagall was staring in shock at the boy who just verbally burned them to a cinder. The desire to chastise the boy for his outburst was warring with her Scottish side, which was mightily impressed by the rightful anger the boy had displayed. And by the volume.

The silence was broken by Cedric, who emitted a low-key whistle.

"Indeed, Mister Diggory, indeed," Dumbledore chuckled. His look darting between the glaring boy, whose nostrils were flaring as he drew heavy breaths, and the Aurors, who had their hands already hovering near their wands, Dumbledore turned to Pomfrey, who still resembled the mythical pillar of salt.

"I think a calming drought might be in order if we want to continue this conversation," he commented dryly, his proposal being met with a distinct lack of disagreement by most parties present.

"I won't," Harry huffed defiantly, being the odd one out. That defiance only lasted until Hermione squeezed his arm. "Please," she whispered, knowing that the situation would call for calm minds. Her gesture was minuscule, but still, it was enough to let Harry sigh, and nod his agreement. He reached out towards Pomfrey, waiting for a flask. When nothing happened, he snapped at her. "Would you?"

Flustered, Pomfrey snapped out of her state and rushed to provide the required concoction. Downing it, Harry noted with a grimace that she had brought one of the worse tasting variety. Figures that she was one to carry a grudge.

The potion took the edge off his simmering anger, but he still was more than put off when he turned to address the Aurors, cutting the Professors out of his business. "What do you want?"

Rising an eyebrow at the boy's still adverse behaviour, the Auror nonetheless began her questioning, producing a dictation quill and a parchment. Licking the tip of the quill, she set it on top of the parchment, where it hovered, vibrating in anxiety to catch every word.

"Let's get the easy questions down, first. Mister Harry Potter, how would you describe your relationship to a Miss Hermine Granger?"

"It's Her-mi-o-ne, and I'm his girlfriend," Hermione hotly interjected. Harry only commented this with a curt "She is."

The woman took a look at the quill taking notes, and nodded satisfied as the transcript was correct. "My apologies, Miss Granger. How would you describe your relationship to Mister Krum?"

Hermione shrugged. "He's a distant acquaintance, whom I've been to a dance with. That's about all the contact I've had with him."

"That's not what I have heard," Karkaroff hissed. "You tried to seduce him in a broom closet!" While this produced more than one raised eyebrow, one pair of eyebrows were nearly touching as Harry's eyes narrowed. Hearing the faint hiss that slowly built up, Hermione put her arm onto Harry's, to keep the boy from charging.

"There was a misunderstanding between us at the end of the evening, but I don't harbour any ill feelings towards Victor," Hermione replied diplomatically. When the Auror shot her a questioning glance, she quickly added, "Given the circumstances, his miscalculation was forgivable, and he was very understanding when I set him straight."

"I see. When did you become Mister Potter's girlfriend?" Was the next question, as the woman gave up inquiring about the incident, understanding the message sent by the girl in front of her quite clearly.

"A few days before the dance," Hermione replied. "Because of this last minute change, we decided to keep our standing dates, in order to not embarrass them unduly," she added, anticipating the next question.

The Auror nodded her understanding, and controlled the transcript. "Very well. Now the hard ones," she said, turning her attention towards Harry.

"Do you harbour any ill feelings towards Mister Krum for this incident?"

Harry replied with a curt "No."

Not satisfied, the Auror made a follow-up question. "Really? I mean he accosted your girlfriend."

"What do you want to hear?" Harry huffed. "I wasn't glad about it, but as Hermione said, nothing happened, it was an honest mistake."

"Well, then the next question should be easy. Did you attack Mister Krum?"

Harry replied without pause. "No."

With a snort, Karkaroff voiced his disapproval, but the Auror sharply set him straight before anyone else could "Mister Karkaroff, please remember that I am carrying out this questioning."

"Continuing the questions; please describe what happened underwater."

Five minutes later, Harry had finished his tale. Nodding pensively, Auror Wigfield asked a follow-up question. "So you had no idea that Mister Krum was nearby when you cast that spell?"

"No, I was completely focussed on the Grindylows attacking from the seaweed in front of me," Harry replied without missing a beat.

"I see," Auror Wigfield spoke, letting the words linger as she exchanged a look with her partner. The man frowned and shook his head. Nodding her agreement, she turned back to face Harry. "Mister Potter, I come to the conclusion that the incident was a mere accident, and it is completely within the bounds of the tournament. There will be no charges. A good day, Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Ladies, Gentlemen..."

So she spoke and turned, her partner following. She was out of the door before Karkaroff found words. "This is an outrage!" he roared. "Never, in the whole history of the Triwizard Tournament has a Champion deliberately injured another," he raged.

Dumbledore walked closer, shaking his head in mirth. "Headmaster, Headmaster," he chuckled, putting his arm around the man's shoulder as he came up next to him. "Do I have to remember you of the incident in 1543, when a Durmstrang contestant set the Hogwarts Champion on fire?" he asked, inconspicuously pulling the man with him as he continued to walk towards the door.

"That was an honest mistake," Karkaroff denied any fault on Durmstrang's part. "Have you seen the paintings? Anyone would have mistaken that girl for a vampire!" he said, falling into step with Dumbledore, who steered them out of the infirmary; Professor McGonagall following in their wake, shaking her head at the Headmaster's skills in manipulating people.

Harry and Hermione did the same, until a bustling Poppy came down on them like a ton of potion vials, forcing them into separate beds and prodding them all over with her wand for what seemed like hours. In fact, when she finally let them go, it was close to lunchtime.

_**ooOOoo **_

"So, you have taken your slut back, Potty?" Malfoy smirked at them as they walked by. That little asshole had obviously waited to ambush them on their way down to lunch. Leaning against the wall near a door, he spouted his venom at them.

"So how do you like Krum's sloppy seconds? I hope he has at least trained her well," the blond boy laughed, his eyes sparkling with cruel mirth.

Being still under the influence of calming draught, both chose to just ignore the boy and continued walking, not even looking at him. Coincidentally, that was the worst thing they could do to Draco. Being ignored was the only thing that the pompous Slytherin couldn't cope with. When Malfoy began shouting even more nasty insults at them for ignoring him, a sharp voice was heard.

"That will be 50 points from Slytherin and a week detention with me for insulting fellow students in a most cruel way, Mr. Malfoy! I never heard anyone saying anything as despicable before and I hope I never will. Be sure that your parents will be informed of this. Leave!" an irate McGonagall yelled as she rounded a corner in a quick walk, her eyes drilling holes through the boy's cranium. This had definitely surprised Malfoy, who quickly retreated, racing down the corridor with as much dignity as he could preserve. It wasn't much.

"I'm sorry for this incident, Miss Granger, Mister Potter. I have been hoping to catch up to you, since I believe we have some things to discuss. As it seems, I found you at the right time. I'm proud of you both for not rising to these vile insults and I apologize again for this to happen. Please, walk with me - I'll escort you to lunch," McGonagall said, as soon as Malfoy was out of sight.

Shortly after they had started walking with McGonagall, Harry was glad to not have risen to Malfoy's bait. There had been an oily smell in the air when he passed a door a bit down the corridor from where Malfoy was standing. And a strong whiff of anger…

The calming draught had really paid off for him.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you," Professor McGonagall began when they reached the staircases and waited for them to swing in the right direction.

"Is it about how Harry scored in the task?" Hermione asked as they passed Peeves on the second floor landing. The ghost hastily tried to hide something behind his back and floated upwards, whistling innocently, while McGonagall followed the spectre with her squinted eyes, until he disappeared into a corridor on the third floor.

"To be honest, nobody has been awarded points, yet. Officially, it is because the contestants aren't all in a state to hear their scores announced, so we want to postpone it," the stern woman replied, her lips getting thinner with every word she spoke.

"But the truth is that Headmaster Karkaroff has blocked the panel by raising a formal complaint because his champion's hostage had been taken by Mister Potter. Although Mister Krum was injured in the task and had to be rescued, he demanded that Mister Krum must be awarded points as if he had rescued his hostage, but Mister Potter should get no points at all because he rescued the wrong hostage and blocked Mister Krum. Because of this complaint, the judges will meet and make a decision tonight after lunch. The Headmaster asked me to inform you about this, but implores you to keep to the official version."

"Of course, Professor," Harry replied, not giving a damn about those stupid points. It was not as if he was trying to impress someone with his achievements, Hermione wouldn't fall for such a thing, anyway. She would be more impressed by him surviving and studying hard beside her.

"Good. That was all, enjoy your lunch," she finished as they came into the Entrance Hall, where she left them and went off to the side, to enter the Great Hall through the anteroom, as teachers usually did.

_**ooOOoo **_

When they entered the Great Hall for lunch, they were greeted with a roaring silence. Since both of them hadn't attended meals in here since the ball, people were shocked to see them. That they came in while embracing each other shocked them even more, even though they just observed in person that Harry would rather rescue Granger than Weasley from the lake, with Harry loudly exclaiming that he would gladly let him drown in the lake in exchange for Granger.

The Weasley in question was currently quite angry about that, of course he was told about that quote as quickly as possible, courtesy of Draco. At first, Ron had dismissed this as dribbles from a ferret, but his mood darkened when others had confirmed it. The twins even echoed it.

The silence held all the way to their table. When they had taken their seats, whispers had restarted already. A few minutes later, the pointing resumed while Harry used his well-practiced ruse of tiredly wiping his eyes to reapply the glamour charm he felt fading. At first, only Harry could hear their whispers about him, Hermione and Krum, and the lewd implications, and tried to keep his temper and growls in check. But as time went by, the whispers became louder and bolder, and you could see by her white knuckles as Hermione squeezed her utensils that she was now able to hear them as well.

Finally, a half hour into the meal, Hermione huffed and stood, throwing her utensils onto the table.

"Enough!" she yelled as she stormed towards the head table, heading for McGonagall and Pomfrey, who sat together and talking softly. Since Professor Snape was not present, she made it there without being chastised by the shocked teachers. Dumbledore eyed her warily, but didn't interrupt. Again, silence descended on the room as everyone wanted to witness the show.

"Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione loudly said. "May I address the rumours about me once and for all?" she asked, earning her a hand motion from McGonagall, allowing her to continue.

At her next statement, a gasp went through the hall.

"Madam Pomfrey! Would you please cast the _Virgo puritas _spell on me?"

"Miss Granger? Do you really want this to be done here in public?" McGonagall gasped in shock. Pomfrey had put a hand on Minerva's arm, restraining her and shaking her head at her friend. "Let her be," she whispered, after leaning over for a more private conversation. "If it's only half as bad as I heard, I can understand her decision."

"That bad?" Minerva whispered back. She never was one to listen to rumors, so she had only a general gist of the content.

"Trust me, I heard worse things about her than they had circulating about me," Poppy replied, still in hushed tones. Minerva's eyes widened at that statement. She knew quite a bit of Poppy's history, and the stuff she had to deal back then, when she was a single, attractive female apprentice at the male-dominated academy.

"Alright then," Professor McGonagall proclaimed after straightening in her seat. "If there are no objections by the Headmaster," she spoke, confirming the lack of by a short glance at Dumbledore, who slightly shook his head, "So be it - Madam Pomfrey, please proceed as demanded."

Standing up, Pomfrey drew her wand and began the long incantation, traditionally used to verify the virginal status of a contract bride.

Hermione shuddered and grimaced as the humiliating feeling of being probed by the spell washed over her. When she finally started glowing white, and a hushed murmur started spreading, she proudly raised her head, scowling at the audience.

"But Krum!" someone shouted.

"That was a stupid misunderstanding, he just misread my intentions. Harry interrupted us before I could tell him off. I ran after Harry to explain everything, and he forgave me within minutes," she shouted back, stretching the truth a bit. Having essentially used Krum against Weasley, she didn't want to drag him into the mud, as his version would incriminate her a lot more.

"And those boys who were with you?" someone else asked, over at Ravenclaw table.

"Are lying braggarts, every single one of them. And just to be sure - I never have sucked nor wanked any boy off, on my magic, this I swear," she spoke, while raising her wand, which produced a bright flash of light as the oath was accepted.

When the light dissipated, people were exposed to a rare sight. Professor McGonagall was sputtering indignantly in her seat, not sure which she should be more shocked of, the language or the fact that a student had sworn an oath. Meanwhile, Hermione cast an _Avis _spell, letting a flock of birds circle the Hall before disappearing.

She then nodded curtly at the anew speechless professors and returned to Harry, sitting down primly after having paraded down the speechless hall, with her head held high.

"What?" she asked irritated when she saw him grinning at her.

"Sucked off? Wanked?" he chuckled softly, his eyes glistening with mirth as he tried to contain his laughter. Hermione groaned, hiding her head in her hands. Of course _after _hitting Harry hard on the shoulder, for good measure.

"Seriously," he said, rubbing his shoulder for show," what was that oath thing for?"

"I was fed up with the rumours. Malfoy was the last drop, metaphorically speaking," she said, ignoring Harry rolling his eyes at her multi-syllable word use. "That was a legal oath that proved my statement beyond any doubt. I have come across these during my studies. If it's good enough to testify for murder accusations, it must be good enough to prove my _purity_," she huffed at him under her breath, clearly annoyed.

"Hey, no need to get brisk with me," Harry laughed and continued his meal for a few bites, before stopping and leaning over to her.

"Could we use that to help Sirius, somehow?" he whispered hopefully. Hermione stopped corralling her peas and grew thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, there are some questions we might not be willing to answer, and no one would listen to us, anyway. We would need a trial to testify in, or else our statement would probably just get 'lost'," she said, emphasising the last word with her fingers.

Harry's reply got lost, as well, as Dumbledore chose that moment to approach them. "Mister Potter? Would you please accompany me to my office?" he said in his grandfatherly voice that started to seriously annoy Harry.

Harry was less than inclined to follow that request, to say it politely. Hermione was rather torn, at one hand, she wanted to stand with Harry, at all cost, but she wasn't included in the invitation.

Seeing how the students exchanged glances, Dumbledore quickly improved his offer. "Of course, Miss Granger is also invited to join us, if she chooses to," he added.

_**ooOOoo**_

**AN:**

DerLaCroix was sitting in his real-life office with a few colleagues, debugging some code that was misbehaving.

"Hey, I found the mistake!" the first one yelled suddenly as an error window popped up.

"No, that is a debugger error - that error doesn't exist in the actual program," the other one responded.

"But it is an error," the first one insisted, and the two started bickering.

After a few fruitless minutes, DerLaCroix had enough.

"This isn't the error you are looking for," he said, waving his hand at the two in a circular motion...

_**ooOOoo**_

News of my demise have been exaggerated. You are still mine…


	7. That was unexpected, or maybe not

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 6: That was unexpected, or maybe not.**

Both followed the Headmaster to his office and past the Gargoyle. Harry felt slightly at unease under the intent stare of Fawkes, who was completely focussed on Harry.

"Hullo Fawkes," he greeted, but instead of the usual trill, he got only the bird's version of a raised eyebrow, as Fawkes leaned his head to one side, still watching him. Shrugging, Harry chose to ignore the moody bird.

After they had settled into the offered chairs, Dumbledore sat in his own, overstuffed grandfather-style chair behind his huge desk.

He settled back into the seat, but suddenly jumped back upright, as if he remembered something important. Taking a bowl of yellow candies, he offered them some. "Would you care for a lemon drop?" he asked, but both denied, shaking their heads.

For a few seconds, Dumbledore rested his elbows on the armrests, and tapped his fingers together in front of his face, looking intently at Harry.

"It hurts me to see how much trust you both have lost in this faculty and its members when you rely on charms instead of seeking out our help, Mr. Potter."

"Charms? What charms?" Hermione tried to deny immediately, catching on to the hint faster than Harry did.

"Please, Miss Granger, your willingness to lie for your friends is laudable, but misplaced. I can recognize a notice-me-not charm quite easily, and after that, looking through it is no problem," Dumbledore chided her gently, with a small laugh. Hermione was not able to resist blushing at being caught.

Turning his head to address Harry, Dumbledore continued.

"I didn't address it in the infirmary, in order to respect your wish for privacy, but I do hope that you let me help you. As I told you, I am on your side," he softly told Harry.

"So you say!" Harry huffed. "Still, you inform Snape about every little thing in my life, even my health report!"

Dumbledore was slightly taken aback by this vehement statement, but he quickly recovered from his surprise. "Professor Snape is a member of faculty, and has a right to be informed," he replied evenly.

"So did you inform my Head of House? I think she really would have a right to know, instead of the man that tries to make my life hell!" Harry all but exploded at the man's self-righteous answer.

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know why you harbour such hatred against Professor Snape, but I will comply with your wishes and withhold such information from him in the future. But you should let go of whatever is between you and him, it's not good for you," he chided.

"Including the current condition of his eyes?" Hermione inquired, quickly interjecting in order to head off another outburst by Harry.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Including this," he admitted. "Providing you are willing to have Madam Pomfrey look your eyes over."

"She already did, and found nothing special," Harry blocked off, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"There might have been a change to this, after all, she didn't tell me about any discoloration. She only told me that the sensory enhancements weren't permanent," Dumbledore insisted.

"Can you guarantee that the results and my current state won't become public knowledge?" Harry replied hotly. "If anything about this leaks out, Skeeter will have a field day!"

Dumbledore mulled over that for a few moments, before he inclined his head in an agreeing way.

"I see. If that's the reason you chose to hide, I have to agree. Miss Skeeter is a… unique… person and I rather had her beyond the wards than inside," Dumbledore allowed. "But sadly, with the tournament going on, she does have a valid reason to be present, at least at the days of the tasks. Alas, she seems to be informed rather well of events between those dates, which proves again that nothing travels quicker than rumours," he continued his assessment of the situation.

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he paused for a moment, pondering the issue.

"You are right. Given the current state of the things that be, it would be better if that information is kept between as few people as possible. I assume you two have already done some research into this topic?"

Hermione nodded in reply. "We have gone through a good portion of the library, with no result, and have consulted external help, still pending an answer," she carefully composed her response.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her. "External help?"

"Some old friend of the family," Harry curtly replied.

"I see… That might be of help. If you agree, I will endeavour in some private research into this topic, as well," the Headmaster replied, stroking his beard softly.

Harry and Hermione shared a glance and both nodded their tacit approval, well knowing that it wouldn't have mattered much if they had declined. Dumbledore continued to stroke his beard for a bit, mulling the problem over, and just as Harry was about to ask whether they were allowed to head back to the tower, he took up the conversation again.

"I think it would be best if you continue your policy of minimizing contact to the student body in order to evade exposure. If you might wonder, it was me who told the other teachers not to interfere with your decision to not attend meals with your peers. I was trying to give you some space and a retreat from the pressure."

For this confession, Dumbledore earned a brief smile from Hermione, but Harry's face stayed guarded, much to Dumbledore's displeasure.

"Tell me, Harry. What can I do to prove that I am truly at your side?" he sighed.

"Get me out of this stupid tournament," Harry snapped in reply.

"As I told you, back then; there was no way," Dumbledore explained. Something about that reply made Hermione sit up straighter. She was looking at Dumbledore in a strange, baffled way.

"More like you don't want to. I guess you still have no clue to who put me in there. You are using me as bait," Harry accused him, not noticing Hermione worrying her lower lip in thought.

"I admit not having found the culprit, yet," Dumbledore conceded with a sad smile.

"But you don't deny using Harry as bait," Hermione interjected, not missing the point.

Harry's glare intensified when Dumbledore flinched slightly. Hermione smiled, satisfied, not unlike when she received points for right answers. That small triumph gave her the courage to carry on with her theory.

"You said that back then, there was no way to get Harry out of the tournament," Hermione said, emphasising the Headmaster's prior comment in a slightly different way.

Dumbledore nodded his agreement to this statement, but chose not to say anything, for now.

"Tell me, Headmaster, would you swear an oath to Harry that there is no way to get him out of this tournament, _now_?" she dug deeper.

Dumbledore cringed.

Hermione smirked.

Harry glared.

While Dumbledore was expecting the boy to explode at that disclosure, the resigned, cold voice in which Harry finally asked his monosyllabic question did hurt far more than Dumbledore could care for. It made him feel dirty inside.

"How?"

With a deep sigh, Dumbledore launched into an explanation. "As you know, there will be a meeting later today. Headmaster Karkaroff insists that with you having - even if it had been unintentionally - taken another champion's intended hostage, you have interfered in Mister Krum's task. By the rules of the tournament you might get disqualified by four-fifth majority of the judges for sabotaging a fellow contestant," he said. "Although I'd rather you'd not, for it is our best chance to find the one who put you in it," he added softly.

"Would that have any negative effect on Harry, if he were to be disqualified?" Hermione demanded, completely ignoring the man's plea.

"Except for maybe some social repercussion from bad-tempered people, I know of none. He would simply be declared to not having successfully finished the task, and therefore his start at the third task would be forfeit," Dumbledore replied, resigned to having lost that argument and trying to make up ground.

"But I do not think that this majority is possible right now, since only Karkaroff is speaking against you, while Bagman and Crouch are firm supporters of you," he tried to pacify the boy.

"I'll take care of that. Let me talk to them at that meeting," Harry demanded.

"You want to attend the meeting to convince them to disqualify you?" Dumbledore asked, slightly baffled.

"Is there a problem with that?" Harry asked rather sharply.

"No, not at all, it's just highly unusual. If you wish to do so, I'll arrange it," Dumbledore ceded the point and changed topic. "Now, let me see about your eyes, Mister Potter," he said as he carefully drew his wand.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I still can't believe he used you like that," Hermione muttered as she walked next to Harry, both heading for their room. Or tried to, as Harry was once more striding along at a near-jog speed.

"That's Dumbledore for you, Peaches. I wouldn't put it past him that he actually did find something wrong with my eyes, but just didn't tell me, to 'spare me the burden'," Harry said, imitating the Headmaster's voice rather well for the quote.

"You think?" Hermione wheezed, and pulled at Harry's arm. "Harry, calm down, I can't walk that fast for long."

"Sorry," Harry replied and scratched his back as he slowed down to a calmer pace. "The man just irritates me, whenever I think I can trust him, I turn around and notice he just used something shiny to distract me from what he really did," Harry said in a gloomy mood, as they turned the corner to the corridor housing 'their' room.

"You know, while I lack something shiny, I bet I can find something to distract my saviour just as well," Hermione teased as she pulled the tapestry aside to reach for the doorknob, and then beckoned Harry over to follow her through the door, using a luring finger and a coy smile.

_**ooOOoo**_

In their secret lair, Hermione was using Harry's chest as a backrest, reading a book, both cuddling on their favourite seat. In fact, she was also reading Harry's book, as well, interrupting her own reading whenever he reached around to turn a page to quickly scan his text. They'd been like that for a couple of hours, only taking a short break for a lunch snack and to change their respective books when they finished them. A sudden knock on the door made them look up. They exchanged a baffled look.

Harry took a deep whiff of air, registering a faint trace of lemon. "It's Dumbledore," he stated. "Strange, I didn't hear anything."

Another, more insistent knock sounded, and Hermione realized that Dumbledore chose to wait outside, instead of just walking in after knocking once, as teachers usually did. "Come," she called, and the door opened almost instantly.

Dumbledore strode in, and looked at Harry and Hermione, still sitting on the sill-seat, still entwined, and books in lap. "I assume confusion was the reason it took you so long to answer the door, right?" he jovially said, his eyes twinkling, as he took in the layout of the room.

"That's a very nice hideout you created," he chuckled, still receiving a shocked look from the teens.

"You surely are wondering how I come to know about it," Dumbledore stated, but was cut off by Hermione.

"It was either the painting of the reading girl at the corner, or the elves," she stated with authority. The drive to answer a question had overridden her bedazzlement.

Dumbledore rewarded her with a nod and a benevolent smile. "Very good, Miss Granger - it was indeed brought to my attention by the house elves who clean this corridor and the rooms here once in a while. Miss Mary-Sue isn't the most talkative. To be frank, she's quite a bore, if I might dare to say so. For instance, she's reading the same book for over and over for almost two centuries, now, and refuses to borrow one from other paintings," he ended with a shake of his head and a chuckle. Hermione meanwhile had changed her opinion of the painting, which she had thought to be a fellow soul.

"Moving a tapestry was a brilliant idea to keep it hidden - I wouldn't have noticed it myself," the Headmaster continued as he walked around, taking a look at the shelves.

"If you don't mind, I was so free as to put some concealing charms on it, so people won't notice someone rustling it while entering or emerging from under it," he said as he started opening the cupboard doors, spying in.

"Oh," he said as he found the miniaturized furniture in there. "I was already wondering where you put everything. Good work," he praised as he closed the door. "I especially like the seat you're in," he told Harry and Hermione, who still hadn't moved from the position they were in. " I think I'll copy it for my office - I really like to read at the open window. Who came up with the idea?"

"We both," Hermione replied.

"Actually, Hermione had the idea," Harry corrected.

"Only because you proposed putting a carpet and pillows on it to soften it up, and you did a lot of the transfiguration, as well," Hermione again deflected the praise.

"Either way, the execution is also good, so please take a point for Gryffindor for an excellent carpentry project, Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke.

"I give it to you, for Professor Snape has a habit of reviewing and disputing all points given to Harry, and you probably don't want him to learn about this," he said while giving a chair a prod to test its sturdiness.

"Nice work, indeed. Although I prefer my seats a bit more cushioned than this. At a certain age, buttocks and wooden stools don't mix too well, anymore," he said, and with a negligible motion of his wand, it transformed into a big, overstuffed chair that sighed softly as Dumbledore sat down on it.

"I still remember this room, I believe. When I was a student, it was the classroom phrenology was taught in," Dumbledore told them, his gaze gliding over the walls. "I believe the models of various head shapes were lined up against this wall," he pointed out. "Of course, they had some of the greatest wizards and witches among those - coincidently, I later found out that every single one of them was modified to fit the prediction. Especially Morgana le Fey never had a forehead this huge..." he spoke, ending in a chuckle that left his eyes twinkling.

Looking quickly over his shoulder at the closed door, he leaned forward and continued in a whisper.

"To be frank, I hated the subject - I took it because I found the idea behind it intriguing, but that changed after the teacher insisted that according to my cranium, I would be weak-willed, dull, and with no sense of humour. He also prophesied that I certainly would be a bad student, probably short-lived and with no taste in music, which should nicely disprove the subject, even if I disregard everything else," he finished, shaking his head in mirth as he leaned back in his chair.

He then slapped his thigh with his right hand, breaking into a broad smile. "Now then, it seems as if Hogwarts has gained another secret room, thanks to you both. Something not even the fabled Marauders have achieved, to my knowledge."

That brought a smile on the student's faces. Harry for thinking about the Marauders, and Hermione for pondering if that might be added to 'Hogwarts, a History'.

"Just be sure to tell someone about this room before you leave school - we for sure don't need to lose another one," Dumbledore sighed, and rose, transfiguring the chair back into its previous form as he did. "Anyway, back to business - it's time for the meeting, Harry."

Harry rose slowly, with Hermione fidgeting around. "You may of course accompany us to the room, but need to stay outside, Miss Granger," Dumbledore stated with a grandfatherly smile.

Hermione immediately jumped to her feet, as well, and was picking at and straightening Harry's robes all the way to the designated conference room, recounting everything she ever heard about male etiquette, much to Dumbledore's entertainment.

_**ooOOoo**_

"What is that boy doing here?" Karkaroff immediately shouted when Harry entered the room behind Dumbledore. "What trickery are you trying to pull off, Dumbledore? Is this an attempt to have the boy tell us a sob story to make us believe his innocence?" he raged, obviously assuming foul play.

Harry couldn't fault the man for his logic, he had learned the hard way that you better count your fingers after shaking the Headmaster's hand. Even the enormous Madame Maxime was looking a bit wary at the sudden change of situation.

Dumbledore just raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I believe you will find Mister Potter's agenda very interesting, Headmaster, so please, hear him out first," he said, before waving Harry to the front and centre, ceding the floor while he went for his seat.

"Hello," Harry began insecurely. "I am here to ask you a favour. I want you to please disqualify me from the tournament."

These two sentences were enough to cause chaos.

"I say we fulfil his wish and go on with the tournament as it was intended," Karkaroff shouted, an extremely smug grin on his face. "Letting this little boy contend was a farce from the beginning!"

Harry internally cringed at this statement, but remained calm to the world. If it suited Harry's goals, that vile bastard could insult him as much as he wanted.

"No, this is illegal, with him wanting to be disqualified, we would help him to withdraw from the tournament," Ludo Bagman shouted frantically from his place right next to the Durmstrang Headmaster. "This is against the rules, he has to compete!"

"Actually, this special case is well within the rules," Percy, who seemed to sit in for Crouch, again, interjected. That resulted in a shouting match between Karkaroff and Bagman, who both gesticulated rather wildly at each other, trying to bring their opponent to agree to their reasoning.

Madame Maxime ignored the commotion, and chose to ask a question instead, her voice easily heard above the din.

"Mister Potter, why do you want to be removed from this tournament?"

Not surprisingly, her authoritative voice calmed the situation down, as even the two men arguing with each other were curious about his true reasons. They stopped in the mid of their argument to listen to Harry's reasons, Bagman still pointing his fingers at Karkaroff for a few seconds, until he noticed and quickly retracted his arm.

"As you all know, I didn't enter my name into this tournament, but had no choice but to compete as you all agreed on the contract to be binding," Harry explained, getting some nods, and some huffs, as well, in return. "This is my chance to get out of this tournament I didn't want to be part of in first place, and to which I didn't even fulfil the age requirements. It is a miracle that I wasn't killed already in the first task, and I hope that you see it the same way as I do and grant my request," he concluded, hoping to have said the right things.

"A wise choice, Mister Potter, far beyond your years," Madame Maxime replied with a benevolent nod.

"Thank you, Madame," Harry replied, giving her a slight bow in return, albeit a slightly wooden one. Hermione had reminded him to be on his best possible behaviour with her in order to save his bum, and although it felt awkward, the formal gesture had earned him a smile, and another nod from the head of France's finest school of etiquette. He made a mental note to thank her for her tip.

"But you are in the lead," Bagman gasped, looking quite panicked about the outcome. "Think of the fame, the money!"

"Sir, I'm much more fond of the fact of being alive," Harry replied, noticing that Madame Maxime nodded again, firmly on his side in this.

"Then let us vote, already," Karkaroff again demanded after Harry had finished.

"I vote we disqualify him," Karkaroff spoke, and thusly was, for the first time since they had met, wholly supporting Harry's wishes.

Madam Maxime also respected Harry's wish, and Percy, who indeed sat proxy for Bartemius Crouch, voted against Harry on a matter of principle. Ludo Bagman didn't want to have any of this, and voted against disqualification, but Dumbledore held his word and voted in accordance with Harry's wish.

After he was dismissed and left the room, it took Harry nearly an hour to calm down an ecstatic Hermione and to come to grips with his luck, himself.

He was free.

_**ooOOoo**_

Laughing and chatting, Harry and Hermione followed the corridors to the Gryffindor tower as it closed in on curfew. Occasionally, Hermione would lean her head on Harry's shoulder, usually resulting in Harry either kissing her hair or stoking her cheek with a finger.

Reaching the Fat Lady, they gave her the password, and Harry gallantly held the portrait open for Hermione to enter first. As he followed behind her, he heard someone bellow "_Aguamenti_!" Immediately, Hermione was knocked into him, and both doused in a jet of freezing cold water. Holding onto Hermione with his right, Harry turned his back to the attack, spinning her around with him and trying to shield her with his body, but the assault ebbed off as fast as it had begun.

Although he did turn around in order to identify the assailant, he wouldn't have had to, as the voice berating them was well known to both of them. Instinctively, he shoved Hermione behind him to keep her out of harm's way.

"Let me drown? You would rather let me drown than to rescue me? After all I've done for you? Who the fuck you think you are, Potter!" Ron spat, his head brightly red and his wand in hand. "You arrogant, selfish… _furunculus_!" The boy yelled the last word, brandishing his wand like a meat cleaver; covering his lack of insults available with a hex.

Unable to dodge at this short distance, nor willing, as he still shielded Hermione with his body, Harry was hit square in the face. But instead of cringing in pain as boils covered his skin, Harry just stood and panted in rage as nothing happened at all. Most students were perplexed at this outcome, but then started to snigger at the enraged redhead, thinking he had flunked that hex in typical Ron Weasley manner.

Ron took that turn of events worse than expected. When his spell had absolutely no effect, he had reacted like everyone else, he had stared in shock. But when everyone laughed at him, again because of Potter, he snapped. Roaring in anger, he dropped his wand and stormed at Harry, taking a wild swing with his right.

Harry noticed the Weasley steam train rushing at him, and decided that this was it. With all his strength, he threw his left arm out to block the punch, their lower arms connecting crosswise, while simultaneously drawing his wand. A loud snap sounded as Harry's arm continued its motion, while an even louder roar marked the moment Ron ceased his attack in order to curl up around his arm, which was bent and had a piece of bone sticking out of the skin at one place. A groan and wince ran through the present onlookers at the sound and sight, and a few people in the crowd rushed for the bathroom to relieve a sudden urge.

When Harry saw Ron lying at his feet, he still considered hexing the git, out of principle. He finally decided against it after a few moments, lowered his wand, and simply turned around and went to care for the shivering Hermione, casting a drying charm at her clothes as he approached. He noticed with a smirk that she also had her wand in hand, and still levelled at the crying boy on the floor. His charms woke her from her contemplation, and she replied the gesture, drying his clothes.

With another disgusted look at what had been their best friend, even the next best thing to a brother, once, they turned and moved to the couches near the fire to cuddle and warm up, ignoring the moans and cries completely.

The rest of Gryffindor stared at them for another few seconds, until the twins started to move towards their stupid brother Ron, picking him up and leading him out of the room, probably to the infirmary. Even the prefects finally remembered their duties, organizing a cleanup and calming the room down.

Fifteen minutes later - about half of the room still gave Hermione and Harry odd glances occasionally as the two still cuddled on a couch - McGonagall entered the room. "Mister Potter!" her sharp voice rang out, silencing the room completely, as everyone waited for the fireworks to commence.

Sighing, Harry pushed Hermione off his shoulder and stood, walking round the couch and stood in front of his Head of House. "Yes, Professor?" he replied evenly, sounding almost bored.

"Would you care to explain how Mister Weasley became a guest of Madame Pomfrey?" the cold reply came as Professor McGonagall's stare tried to bore a hole through him.

"When Hermione and I returned to the common room, we were instantly attacked by Weasley with a jet of water. After it ended, he ranted at us, before ending his argument with a poorly cast boil hex, which hit me in the face without any effect," Harry stated calmly. Finding that Mister Potter's face was spotless and knowing about Mister Weasley's magical capabilities, McGonagall accepted this part of the explanation with a nod, allowing Mister Potter to continue his tale.

"Noticing that, Weasley decided to mar my face with his bare hands and stormed at me, swinging his fist. In order to protect myself, I threw out my left arm to block the punch, and when our arms connected, his bones proved to be weaker than mine," Harry concluded his report.

"Is this factual?" Professor McGonagall asked into the room, getting positive replies from all present students, even from Ginny.

Nodding, she continued to address Harry. "Well, Mister Potter, in that case I find you not at fault. On the other hand, I was told that you did do nothing to help Mister Weasley as he laid on the ground, injured. You even held him at wandpoint for a time before just stepping away. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Professor. Concerning the fact that Weasley broke trust with me at Christmas, when he insulted and spat on Hermione before trying to hit her, and now tried to hex and hit me, I was not inclined to do anything for Weasley. As far as I'm concerned, he is nothing but a threat, and will be dealt accordingly. When I came to the conclusion that he was unable to attempt causing further harm, I refrained from hexing him."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the harsh way Harry formulated his view of things, but couldn't find the boy at fault if the things he just cited were true. "At least you did show restraint. I will accept your behaviour for now, because of the unique situation you have been experiencing lately, but I will not ignore this kind of behaviour again. Withholding medical care is not acceptable, Mister Potter," she scolded him, but refrained from deducting points or giving detention. Harry didn't reply other than to nod slightly, his face a stoic mask. He had his own opinion about this.

"I will, however deduct twenty points from Mister Weasley for fighting, and give him a week detention, helping in the infirmary," she added as she turned to leave. "And I will have a conversation about his violent tendencies with Mister Weasley, rest assured, Mister Potter," she concluded, and left the room, probably heading to the infirmary.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked warily as Harry returned to his seat, and his pillow duties. Harry nodded tiredly and pulled her closer.

"You think he'll learn a lesson?" Was her second question, after cuddling back into his shoulder.

"We are talking about Ron Weasley, the boy so dense that an _Imperius_ curse had him under control even after being lifted an hour ago. I doubt a bone removal and a night of Skele-gro will leave an impression, but McGonagall might at least leave a mark," Harry chuckled at her.

Hermione joined his chuckle for a bit, before she stifled a yawn. "I don't want to go upstairs, yet," she muttered and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, enlarging it to blanket size. She then pushed Harry into a lying position on the broad couch and settled into spooning Harry. Setting her wand to sound an alarm in an hour, she pulled the blanket over them.

The rest of the students looked a bit surprised at their antics, but no one wanted to be the one to tell Harry about it, not after what just had happened, so they left them be.

_**ooOOoo**_

The noise in the Great hall slowly subsided and gave way to an expectant silence when Dumbledore rose during breakfast.

"Good morning, everyone. I am happy to welcome all contestants back amongst us, after all having recovered completely from the injuries sustained in the last task," he spoke, leading the crowd into an applause with his own slow clap.

After the cheers had died down, he raised his voice again. "Now, for the points; Mister Diggory successfully finished the task in time, and received 38 points, while Mister Krum and Miss Delacour are tied at 20, after they had to be rescued from the lake."

Applause was heard, with Hufflepuff cheering a storm at Cedric's victory, which put him firmly into lead. Only after a few moments, people started to notice that something was missing.

"What about Harry," one of the twins shouted out. Harry assumed it was George, but couldn't tell for sure, as it was hard to tell them apart in the morning. Strangely, their identity became only clear after lunch. They even smelled the same. Harry had the theory that even they sometimes forgot who was who, and just negotiated their identity among each other.

"I was just about to address this matter, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore took the spotlight back. "Due to some incorrect information, there was an overlap in hostage identity, which caused Mister Potter to save a different person than assigned. In theory it should have been clear, and would have been, if the relationship between Mister Potter and Miss Granger had been known to us, we'd never had used her as Mister Krum's hostage. But as it stands, rules are rules, and Mister Potter had to be disqualified from the tournament."

While most of the student body was baffled and started murmuring softly, there were some different reactions, as well. Harry could ignore the smirk on Weasley's face. In fact, he was slightly surprised that the little arse had stopped eating and actually listened to the announcement.

Predictably, there was loud laughter from the Slytherin table. Malfoy was making some very rude remarks under cover of the raucous noise, which Harry filed away for later.

In a stark contrast to the blasé reaction of the student body, the amiable part of Clan Weasley, and surprisingly, Cedric, Fleur, and even Neville, of all people, jumped up and hollered various variations of "You can't do that." At least that's what he thought with Fleur, he would have to ask Hermione later what it really meant.

"Harry, we have to do something," Neville implored, supported by the twins and Ginny, who had rushed to his side.

"Guys, I appreciate this, but there's no need," Harry said, standing up. "May I, Headmaster?" He asked aloud.

"Of course, Mister Potter, they wouldn't believe me, anyway, I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied.

"Thank you," Harry spoke, turning to face most of the Hall, not bothering to step forward.

"I supported this decision, actually, I persuaded them to take this step."

"Why?" and "What?" were the most common responses, either whispered or shouted.

"As most of you chose to forget, I was forcibly entered into this tournament, and nearly killed in the first task. I never wanted to participate, and as this possible means to get out surfaced, I happily endorsed it. The jury supported my decision, for which I am most grateful," Harry spoke, bowed slightly in the direction of the assembled jury members, and sat down.

Dumbledore took over seamlessly. "Well spoken, Mister Potter. Alas, this means we will see a final task with only three contenders taking place. I believe you all will still be thrilled by it. Have a nice day!"

After this dismissal, the usual shuffling and rustling started, as most of the students rose to leave.

Cedric and Fleur instead approached Harry, who stood to meet them. "Hello," Cedric spoke as he stopped in front of him, while Fleur echoed him, although with her cute accent.

"I'm quite sorry you chose to quit, Harry. Feels a bit like you gift wrapping me the lead," Cedric said sadly. "I'd rather have seen how this would have ended, properly, but I can't disagree with your decision."

"Exactement," Fleur joined the talk. "Zat was certainly not ze decision of a leetle boy," she said in an appreciative tone.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "There was little to decide. I never wanted to, nor should have been part of the tournament. You guys have earned being a part in this, I was merely slipped in by a fraud."

"Still, you were in the lead," Cedric said. "It was a good match. Next time we'll meet in the skies, can't wait to beat you again," he smiled as he held his hand out. "Got any Dementors to help you in your pocket?" Harry quipped back with a broad smile as he grabbed the offered hand. Cedric laughed out loud as he heard that. "Good one! We'll see who laughs last," he chuckled, and slapped Harry's shoulder before he let his hand go and left.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Delacour, good luck for the tournament," Harry spoke as he extended his hand towards her. She daintily shook it, before pausing and stepping close, quickly giving him a peck on each cheek. "Bon chance to you, az vell, Harry Potter," she whispered before she ended the close contact. "Congratulations, you two," she said with a nod towards Hermione, and swooped away.

Harry shot Hermione a rather worried look, but she only smiled and patted his hand in response, thus changing his facial expression to one of slight confusion. She knew French habits, and his concern how she might react told her all she needed to know. They'd talk later.

"Ain't we proud of our Harry, Fred?" George quipped while wiping a fake tear away.

"Indeed we are, getting a girlfriend, getting his way out of the tournament, and now he even gets smooched by a hot Frenchie..."

"Yeah, he'll soon will reach our level," George commented.

"Why, has he started digging a hole, as well?" Ginny snipped from the other side of the table.

Sadly, the good mood evaporated when Ron felt he had to comment the situation as he passed by. "Typical you - getting yourself thrown out of the tournament just to gain even more attention," he spat. "Just can't cope with not standing out, can't you?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but with him being firmly in lead, wouldn't winning gain him more attention, little brother?" Fred asked, bewildered, while everyone else was still trying to comprehend. Most didn't even notice Hermione's hand pinning Harry's firmly down on the table. That reduced Harry's response to turning around and glaring.

Ron was obviously fumbling for words as everyone looked at him. After a few moments, he gave up. "That's not the point," he harrumphed.

"And what is the point?" Neville asked dryly.

"That Ron's being an selfish idiot, who can't stand others being in the spotlight," Ginny stated in an equally dry tone. Ron blustered at the statement, his head rapidly getting redder, but stormed off when he noticed Harry glaring at him. Seemingly, he had learnt this particular lesson.

"And language, Ginny," Hermione chided her while softly petting Harry's back to lighten his mood.

"What? I said nothing bad!" the petite redhead protested vigorously.

"You used the R-word," Hermione said with a sly smile.

Not quite out of the door and hearing range, Ron flinched as he heard the laughter. His eyes narrowed dangerously when he turned around and saw his family laugh along with the bastard and his slut. Throwing himself around, he stomped off, muttering under his breath.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I'm quite proud of you, Harry," Hermione spoke as they sat at their study desk in their room. "I've been afraid I'd need to tie myself to you to keep you from killing someone, but you kept your temper all the time."

"Being kinky, Peaches?" Harry quipped without raising his head from the Herbology textbook. He didn't flinch when her elbow found his target.

To no one's surprise, the Slytherins, under the banner of Malfoy, used every possible moment to mock Harry for being thrown out of the tournament, even though Dumbledore and Harry, himself, had stated that this had happened at Harry's explicit wish.

"Meh, I don't care much, I started ignoring insults long time ago. Being taunted for something that had set me free doesn't really bother me. Especially since it means that I now do have lots of time to spare with my girlfriend, studying lightly, instead of cramming out of worry about being killed in a few weeks," he replied with a smirk.

"Let's hope it stays that way," Hermione replied with a chuckle, but hoping it really would.

One thing changed the next Monday, though.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Oh, my poor boy," the bespectacled woman wailed through the incense that made Harry's nose itch.

"I can see many dark omens around you. You will not survive this year, I fear," she said with an airy tone, and Lavender and Parvati gasped in the background, like they always did when Professor Trelawney prophesied Harry's death. Harry in his seat next to Neville could only huff. He knew what Professor Trelawney sounded like when she gave a real prophecy.

"I know, not being gifted with the sight would make you ignore the omens, my boy," the bat from the tower continued, "But beware, your death will be gruesome!" she gravely intoned, and Harry could see Weasley smirk across the room. When Professor Trelawney continued moaning and wailing about his imminent doom, Harry decided that he had enough of this. There was no way he would endure these stupid lessons anymore, climbing up and down that stupid tower just to hear nothing but incoherent ravings about his sudden death and not learning anything. And that while choking in the incense of whatever lawn cuttings Trelawney used to burn.

Fuming, Harry shoved his things into his bag and stood with a huff. "If I am not gifted at all and will die this year, anyway, I think I could find better things to do than spending my last days ruining my lungs in this incense. Good day!" he barked, and copied the feat only Hermione had managed before. Professor Trelawney stood surprised, staring at the remaining students with wide open eyes, hoping for someone to explain to her what was going on; as her favourite prediction target left the room. She certainly hadn't foreseen that.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry stomped down the winding staircase of north tower and over to the section in second floor where the Arithmancy classroom was located. There, he was wearing a groove into the floor in front of the door until Hermione's double period ended.

"Harry! What are you doing here? Did class end early?"

"I ended it early," Harry spoke as he stepped closer to give her a small peck on the cheek. "She wasn't as perplexed as she was when you walked out on her, but I guess she already had foreseen me leaving, some day."

"So you finally gave that superstitious bu...levard trickery up?" Hermione blurted, but corrected herself.

Harry laughed out at her antics. "My, my. That's the closest you ever came to actually cursing about a class. She really hit your nerve, did she?"

Hermione harrumphed in reply, mumbling something about "books" that even Harry could not understand completely, and switched topic.

"We better go and find Professor McGonagall. She's probably in her classroom."

"Why?"

"Well, we do need to get your schedule changed, don't we?"

_**ooOOoo**_

Their first guess turned out to be right. Finding her cleaning up her classroom, they asked for a moment of her time.

"Well, Miss Granger, Mister Potter? What can I do for you?" The stern woman asked after leading them into her back office. "Is this about Mister Malfoy or Weasley?" she asked warily.

"No, Professor," Hermione answered. "This is purely academic. Harry needs to switch courses," she said. Professor McGonagall's raised eyebrow in the boy's direction prompted Harry to take over.

"Professor Trelawney has crossed the line. I am tired of having my death predicted every time I'm in class. As stated by the Professor herself, I have absolutely no talent in this field, and therefore I refuse to waste my time in this class," he told his Head of House, which made the corners of her mouth twitch lightly. It was well known that she found that subject to be _unnecessary_, to keep the wording polite.

"Very well, Mister Potter, but which course would you like to attend instead; your course load has to include at least one more class."

"We were thinking about Muggle Studies," Hermione babbled ahead, not able to contain her excitement, "since he was raised Muggle, he would fit in with no problems. But since he wouldn't learn much in there, we would like to try having him sit in with Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, where I could tutor him in our spare time to try and get him a passing grade in either or both subjects," she rushed to tell happily.

Hermione was glad to be having Harry around for much more time, and given that Arithmancy was only a bit harder than their Muggle school math, she was positive that she could bring Harry up to speed fast in this subject. Ancient Runes wasn't that hard, either, but it depended on Harry's skill to learn a language, which was still untested. If Harry managed to do well in either or both classes, he even could drop Muggle Studies again if he wanted fewer classes, and just take the OWLs, like Hermione planned to. Anyway, Harry had been interested when she told him about the topic, which would later include warding and creating magical artifacts.

Professor McGonagall had listened patiently to her, and only occasionally given her consent with a short nod. With Hermione ending her argumentation, it was her turn to reply.

"This seems the sensible thing to do, Miss Granger, Mister Potter. I will forward the changes in schedule to the Professors in question. I agree to you doing well in Muggle Studies, Mister Potter. But be aware that although there will be leniency concerning your work in class while you try to catch up, you will be removed from the other two classes if you impede the progress of your fellow students. Of course, you will also be removed if you fail the end of year tests, is this clear?" McGonagall said with a voice that could cut if sternness were sharp.

Harry nodded his acceptance. "This is only fair, thank you, Professor."

"Then off with you, I believe you have dinner to attend," McGonagall dismissed them with a faint trace of a smile on her lips.

Hermione led Harry out of the classroom, but turned left, instead of right, down to the Great Hall.

"Honestly, Harry," she huffed when the same pointed that fact out. "You need textbooks as soon as possible, we need to fill an owl order for Hedwig to deliver."

"Sadly, I don't have one," Harry countered.

"No problem, I got plenty."

Harry took a bit to compute that. "You really do have owl order forms?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Of course I do, they're a very handy thing to have," Hermione replied without missing a beat. "Why?"

"Just asking, just asking," Harry valiantly turned his tail.

_**ooOOoo**_

That very evening, Hermione had started her tutoring program to bring Harry up to speed on the subjects. His books were to arrive on Wednesday, probably. Hedwig was sent off after lunch, with the form and a bag of money - Hermione still knew the price of the books - so an early morning delivery was probable.

"Here, that's the page I was looking for," Hermione triumphed as she flipped to a page. "See this table, that's what we have done so far - these are the most common Nordic runes, the Elder Futhark alphabet," she explained as she pointed at the page, which contained a table of symbols with a letter and a name applied to each. "Strictly speaking, it's no alphabet but a letter series, as it's not alphabetically ordered, but that's just a technicality," she added while Harry was looking at the runes.

"We have covered the first two "ættir" - which is a group of eight runes - out of three so far, and it will be your task to catch up on their names and properties. Let's start with the Freyr's ætt," Hermione rambled, already in full lecture mode.

"This is the easiest ætt, since it starts with the runes that gave the series the name - f,u,th,a,r and k," she told him, spelling the rune letters out for him. "Now for their names and properties," she started, flipping to the pages she had marked in her notes, with Harry listening attentively.

About an hour later, they switched topic, with Hermione choosing Arithmancy next. While he showed a lot of interest in Runes, Arithmancy was more of a struggle, since it consisted of cramming various charts about the magical significance of numbers and old formulas about spell construction, to which Harry's new-found interest didn't seem to stretch. It was a long hour for Harry.

The Muggle Studies textbook gave him a lot of laughs, and some head-shaking and face-palm moments as they read it through. Harry even had to check the edition notes in the binding to see if that book was printed in eighteen hundred-something. In fact, it was from fourteen thirty eight, but had been revised every fifty to hundred years, stopping in eighteen twenty three, since there wasn't any notable change in the Muggle technology anymore, just minor refining of existing principles, as the intro claimed. He now knew why Hermione hated that subject so much. Just for fun, he decided that he really had to read one of those old ones.

_**ooOOoo**_

On Wednesday, breakfast was interrupted by an occurrence that had the whole Gryffindor table laughing at Harry. It began when the mail owls entered the Great Hall through the window near the ceiling, delivering the morning mail, just as usual.

A big owl swooped by and dropped a wrapped bundle in front of Harry. A quick look at the tag proved it was the book delivery, which Harry shoved into his bag, unopened, before he returned his attention to his scrambled eggs while a news owl made it's delivery to his girlfriend.

While Hermione received her Daily Prophet and started reading, another unknown tawny owl landed on the table, just out of reach of Harry, offering the letter on its leg to him. Leaning forward, Harry tried to reach for the letter, but the owl hopped into the air and circled there until Harry had settled. Then it landed at exactly the same spot, offering the letter, again.

Frowning, Harry again reached for it, just to have the owl repeat his performance. After Harry had repeated this three more times, the whole table was laughing at the sight of an owl playing keep-away with Harry, when Hermione finally noticed what was going on. She quickly placed a hand on the arm of the nearly seething Harry, keeping him from hexing the poor bird. When she reached forward, the owl stood still and let her retrieve the letter, and took off with a hoot, pumping its wings for all it was worth to get away from the table.

"Bloody owl," Harry muttered as he took the letter Hermione handed him.

"Don't speak like that, you sound like you're from Land's End when you do that," Hermione chided in an annoyed tone, but then leaned in. "Just remember when we tried to send the last letter, Harry," she whispered a bit later. "The poor thing was obviously torn between doing its duty and approaching you."

Harry had to agree with a sigh as he pocketed the letter for later; not wanting to have the raucous students around him having a glimpse at what surely was Sirius's reply.

A short stop in a broom closet after breakfast revealed that he was right, and that he should come to a certain spot in the hills behind the town during next Hogsmeade weekend. The letter also included instructions on how to get there. Harry just hoped that this wouldn't get Sirius in trouble. Not more than usual, at least.

_**ooOOoo**_

It all went well until Friday morning came, and the students started to act up again. All over Hogwarts, the muttering erupted again, with a single zone of silence moving all over the castle that coincided with Harry's location at all times. From what he could make out, it was about an article.

Harry continued to ignore them, as he couldn't understand the ruckus about a _Daily Prophet_ article about his disqualification. But then, the article was slanted in a way that painted him as a poor boy that got kicked out of the biggest thing in his life due to politics. He was surprised by that, since, considering his behaviour towards his peers, he wasn't exactly their idol. Also, he was sure that the looks and points were aimed at Hermione instead of him, but couldn't find anything in the article.

When they arrived at the Potions class, the source of the latest rumours was finally revealed.

"Hey Potty! Is it your turn today with Granger?" Malfoy called from the door, where he stood with Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and some other Slytherin girls. Pansy began to giggle at her oh so funny boyfriend's commentary; completely ignoring the fact that it had been less than a handful days since Hermione had proven that she was untouched. They weren't the kind of people who let facts change their opinion.

Harry gave a guttural growl at this, and with a meanwhile practised movement, Hermione put her hand in his arm to keep him from ripping the boy apart, limb by limb. For some strange reason, while probable capable to break her in halves, the slightest touch by Hermione could hold him back.

Meanwhile Pansy sneered at them, making her face even more horse-like, and threw an edition of _Witch Weekly_ at them. "Here, Granger. You might find something interesting in there," she said loudly as Hermione caught the magazine that had slapped against her chest. They had only time to notice that the front page featured an image of a smiling Hermione before Snape opened the door to the classroom and everybody rushed in.

They quickly took one of the tables in the last row, as usual, and while Snape wrote the ingredients and instructions for today's potion on the blackboard in his trademark illegible scrawl, Hermione quickly scanned the magazine for the article. Before Snape was finished, she had finished the article with a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked while he started pulling ingredients out of his kit. Hermione placed the magazine on the workbench, so he could see the headline.

"Torrid affair ends tournament for Potter," it wrote in glaring letters.

"This article claims that I caused you to get thrown out of the tournament. I am the seductress, playing you and Krum against each other, for my own gain, you know. Rita Skeeter is clearly getting creative here," Hermione told him with a broad smile, and turned to glance at the Slytherins, who looked really disappointed at her reaction. "Did they really think I would give a damn about this? Honestly, this article is just ludicrous," she said. When she saw Pansy Parkinson frown at her in response, Hermione couldn't help but to smirk at them and wave before turning back to her work and setting up her cauldron.

"They'll never grow up," she huffed, and Harry nodded at that, smiling back at her.

"Would you two stop the idle chat about your oh so interesting love life, and focus on the task at hand?" Snape sneered at them from in front of their desk. Sometimes it was scary how quick and silently that man could move.

Sneering at the teens, Snape's face got even more unfriendly as he looked at Harry, who took the hint and started working in earnest on his potion. As Harry bent down over his scarab beetles to put them into his mortar, Snape left them alone, surprisingly not even taking points.

Working hard on his potion, Harry only occasionally caught a glimpse of Snape, who had given up all pretence of teaching and sat on his chair, watching Harry work. Every time the boy dared to raise his head, Snape was sneering so hard at him that Harry got a headache from just looking at the man.

During the course of the lesson, Harry was getting more and more agitated by that, especially as he was experiencing trouble with his cauldron set-up as well. He realized that he seemed to need a new burner, after all these years. Harry continuously had to adjust the fire, as it perpetually changed size, sometimes even flaring dangerously. After he had changed the settings on his magical burner for what seemed the fiftieth time, he looked up, and again, Snape made eye-contact, sneering at Harry.

This time, Harry could hear Snape whisper something, and suddenly, a blinding headache befell Harry, and after a moment of stiffening up, he slumped down unconscious, pushing his cauldron off the table.

Remarkably, this went nearly unnoticed, as at the same time Professor Snape roared and jumped up, his wand flying from his hand and across the room, as he clutched his head and went down in a violent seizure.

_**AN:**_

Still alive, still kicking... Puppies...

Since I found time (and money) to mechanize parts of my farm, my spare time for writing might increase. Or be eaten by something else.

Either way, REJOICE! (For bad things are going to happen...)

Singled out minions:

Goku90504 - thanks for spotting the typos... Here's what you get for your efforts :D

**ooOOoo**

"Nebraska? Seriously? Freaking Nebraska? While they're at it, why not Kansas, or Idaho?" DerLaCroix shouted at the real estate broker he had kid…invited for an audience, in order to obtain a new, bigger lair.

It had been hard to find that man, as he only knew his email address, goku90504 something or other - and the Dark Lord wasn't the type to schedule appointments...

"Now that you asked me, I actually do have some very remote estates there..." the man replied in an uncertain way. It didn't happen quite often that you get tackled down, and have a sack pulled over your head. That, combined with a long bumpy ride in a car's trunk, to end up sitting opposite of a man asking you for a real estate he wants to obtain, simply was not business as usual. At least for non-Detroit estate agents...

"Sounds good, although there might be some places even further away from the fun places, and with worse infrastructure in the Appalachians," DerLaCroix replied with dripping sarcasm

"Now that you mention it - in that area, I could offer you a whole town for a pittance," the salesman replied smoothly, gaining momentum as he now was back in charted waters. That fact made his customer perk up slightly.

"Really? That doesn't sound too bad. Huge plots can make up for infrastructure. And remote locations aren't a bad idea in my kind of business," DerLaCroix replied thoughtfully. Right on cue, a blood-curling scream sounded from somewhere out in the cavernous base. Checking his watch, DerLaCroix smiled slightly. "Nine o'clock, Embi must be initiating the new minions…"

Trying to hide his unease, the agent pulled out a folder and handed it over. "You might notice the huge size, and I can guarantee you an extremely quiet neighbourhood. Not even wildlife interfering, which normally could be a problem out there."

"Let's have a look at this," DerLaCroix said, shuffling the papers. "You are aware that this town is sitting right in the middle of a mountain top removal dump, right?" he said after reading a certain paragraph.

"Well, there is that tiny flaw, but then you get a completely unobstructed view…"

"While intriguing, it would be pointless if all the minions die off just by themselves. Also, it's a bit too visible for my taste. I prefer something more secluded than a huge artificial lifeless plain…"

"Then I have something for you. An old mine - huge network of tunnels underground…"

"Really? Let's see… Wait! Right here, it says that parts of the mine are on fire!"

"Yes - just imagine what you could save in energy expenses if you tap into that…"


	8. What the hisssss?

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 7: What the *hisssss*?**

***** Hogwarts Potion Classroom*****

Hermione jumped at the scare; not having raised her head even once since they started brewing in earnest - being completely focused on the task. She briefly wondered what happened to her Professor for him to act like that before noticing Harry's state. Dropping her mortar and scattering her scarab powder all over the desk, she dropped to her knees next to her prone boyfriend.

While the Slytherins were claiming Potter did something to their Head of House, and the Gryffindors were instinctively rising to defend their House member, Hermione sent Neville to fetch Pomfrey while all others started a shouting match. Even Weasley was using the opportunity to shout at the Slytherins, although he concentrated on yelling that Snape had earned it, instead of defending Harry.

The Healer arrived within minutes, with Dumbledore hot on her heels, both finding the classroom just shy of open warfare. "Be quiet!" The Headmaster shouted, causing the insults to cease immediately. Some wands were quietly put back into pockets as the Headmaster started to separate the two groups facing each other, sending everybody back to their seats.

Meanwhile, the nurse had approached Harry and given him a quick wand-over. Obviously finding the results of Harry's scan acceptable, she went to check the still twitching Head of House, while Hermione stayed to care for her boyfriend.

Looking around and noticing Snape as well as Harry being unconscious, and both being tended for by Pomfrey and Hermione, respectively, Dumbledore feared for the worst. "What happened?" he asked the assembled students in the room.

"Potter attacked Professor Snape!" Draco's drawl cut through the murmur of voices.

"My, my - that is a grave accusation, Mister Malfoy. I assume you have evidence for that, don't you?" Dumbledore said in a calm voice, looking intently at the boy, his eyes twinkling brightly.

As Malfoy didn't bring forth any, Dumbledore smiled at the boy, and turned to face the Gryffindor half of the classroom, getting only shrugs in response. The non-Slytherins knew better than to raise their heads in Snape's class, so they knew next to nothing.

"Can you tell us what happened, Miss Granger?" he asked while walking over and casting some spells at the unconscious boy.

"I don't know - Harry was just tending his potion after putting the ground up scarab beetles in, and suddenly, he and the Professor collapsed," Hermione replied truthfully and in tears, her care options exhausted but for dabbing his forehead. Pomfrey had only interrupted her ministrations briefly to listen to her explanation.

"I've cast all the spells I know, but I can't find out what's wrong with him - will he be alright?" Hermione whined.

"His readings look fine to me, Miss Granger. According to Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis and my spells, he seems reasonably well, except for being unconscious, but I'm at loss to say why, as well," Dumbledore replied as he knelt down next to the boy.

"Ground scarabs, you said," he repeated her as he waved his wand over boy, and gave a quick glance at the blackboard. "There couldn't have been any reaction from the potion at this stage. There is only one ingredient that could have caused a mishap when dropped into this potion at that stage," Dumbledore murmured as he started checking Harry's head with a series of wand swishes.

"But this would not have been mistaken for ground scarab beetles, and have left us in search for a new classroom, so we can strike that possibility out, I believe," he muttered as he started moving towards the chest area, his wand now describing circular patterns.

"Could it be another _vision_?" Hermione leaned over and asked in a hushed whisper, not to be overheard in the din of the classroom.

"Just as probable as any other explanation," Dumbledore admitted before looking towards Madam Pomfrey, who had conjured a stretcher and had started strapping Snape to it. Taking a deep breath and shrugging, Dumbledore copied her actions for Harry.

"The class is dismissed; please return to your common rooms," Dumbledore addressed the room in his official voice. "Miss Granger, you are of course welcome to follow us to the infirmary," he then added softly.

_**ooOOoo**_

Five minutes later all had convened in the pristine white hospital wing, and the two patients were put into beds. In Snape's case, the nurse had needed to conjure leather straps to keep the man down, as he didn't stop thrashing even after she had administered a sedative to him.

Harry had started to come around during the transfer. Pomfrey had waved her wand over Harry as soon as he was in bed, and had given them a potion for him - probably a pain potion, as he had made hissing sounds every time they jostled him.

Hermione and Dumbledore were waiting at his bedside for him to wake up fully as Madame Pomfrey was tending to her other patient.

"He really didn't do anything; he wasn't even near his wand at the time," Hermione again pleaded her boyfriend's case, as the boy in questions groaned and opened his eyes.

"Harry! Are you alright?" Hermione and Dumbledore asked in unison, but they didn't get an answer.

All they got was Harry jumping up and hissing furiously, his face contorted in rage and all his posture screaming danger. When Harry roared and initiated a jump, Dumbledore reacted as quick as lightning, and hit the boy with a body bind before he had made it off the bed.

Harry fell down on the floor, stiff as a board; but only seconds after the impact he started winding and wiggling, visibly breaking through the confining magic. Dumbledore looked impressed as he quickly conjured some ropes to coil around the boy before he could break free and levitated him back on his bed, where he spat and hissed at them in anger.

_**ooOOoo**_

When Harry had woken a few times during the levitation, he felt weak as a kitten, and had a blinding headache, to boot. All he could do was to croak for his Peaches as they moved him around, probably for the infirmary. He could smell her near him, so he knew she was there, but she was so engrossed in talking to the Headmaster that she didn't hear him, and in his weak state, he had no means to alert her.

Finally, the fog cleared a bit and he noticed that they were in the starched atmosphere of the infirmary. Predictably, he was put in a bed and something that tasted like it was drained from the compost heap was poured into his mouth. He weakly swallowed it, hoping that it would remove the rampaging giant clan from his head, or at least confiscate their clubs. Thankfully, it did in fact evict the complete group of monsters, and he felt his bodily and mental facilities being restored to their usual state again. This also brought back the memory of just before the blackout.

"Where is the bastard!" he yelled as he opened his eyes, lusting for blood. The git had gone too far. "I'll tear his bloody brain out through his hooked nose!" he screamed as he threw off the blanket and lunged for the asshole across the room. Even before he had opened his eyes, he had known that the git was in the room, just by the smell of his hair.

To his surprise, his attack was redirected to the floor, as his body snapped rigid under a _Petrificus totalus_ spell. Ignoring the hard impact, he used all his strength to fight the spell, and it quickly gave way, only to be replaced by thick hemp ropes curling up around him.

"Stay out of this! It's between him and me!" He shouted as he was levitated up again and into the bed. Staring at the two persons in front of him, he addressed the one that would help him.

"Hermione, help me! You wouldn't believe what this arse has done to me!" he shouted, but got only a confused look in return. "What's wrong? Say something!" he pleaded as his girlfriend kept looking at him.

Suddenly, her face lit up in understanding. "Harry," she carefully and slowly said, "you are speaking Parseltongue - we can't understand you!"

Harry stared at her doubtfully, but accepted her word and concentrated on talking to her in English.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Can you underssssstahhhhnd me now?" he pressed out carefully.

"You are still hissing a bit, but now I can, Harry," she beamed back at him before her look got worried again. "What happened? You were stirring your cauldron when you suddenly broke down. Was it You-know-who? Another vision?"

"No, it wasss the greazzzzzzzy githhh!" Harry hissed, his eyes speaking volumes of the pain he wanted to cause that man, while he again strained against the ropes. Only the fact that he was nearly cocooned in them prevented him from breaking free.

"That's Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore chided, ignoring the hostile glare he received in return. "Please try to calm down; your accent is getting worse when you're getting agitated. What exactly happened?"

"What chhhhappenethhhhh? I'll thhhhhell chhuuu!" Harry spat in a fit of anger. Hermione sat down and started stroking his face. He immediately relaxed into her touch, his breathing slowing significantly. He shot her a look of love before his face hardened again and turned towards the old man at the bedside.

"I wass jussst doing my potionss work, while he alwayss tried to irritathe me by forcssing eye-contacth," Harry recounted, his lisp getting better by the second as he slowly wound down under Hermione's care. Dumbledore used his wand to vanish the ropes, as the boy didn't look like he intended bodily harm on his Potions Master anymore.

"Then suddenly, he whisspered something that s-started with 'Legelli' or something, and suddenly, I could feel the git in my head!"

Dumbledore didn't act surprised at all at this news. He had seen enough of the scene from the Malfoy heir's head to deduct something along those lines, already.

"What happened then?"

"I don't really know, he was there, and I wanted him out, so I pushed at him with all I had," Harry told him. "And then everything turned black and I woke up here."

"Thank you, Harry. I'll be asking after Professor Snape's condition, why don't you two visit for a while, while I'm away," Dumbledore told them in his grandfather voice.

"What will you do about Professor Snape, Sir?" Harry asked in a resentful voice, anticipation the answer already.

"You really have to learn to rise above such petty things as revenge, my boy," Dumbledore spoke cryptically and dismissively, before walking away and erecting a privacy shield as he approached the other bed. Harry and Hermione just stared after him, whispering and occasionally shaking their heads at the strange behaviour of that man.

"How is he, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked in a concerned voice as he came to a stop next to the wand-waving witch.

"I don't know, Albus, he shows symptoms similar to extensive _Cruciatus_ exposure, and seems to suffer a psychotic fit at the same time, according to the dream analyzer spell. I gave him some dreamless sleep potion, but that is only a temporary measure for a day or two before it will become more harm than good. I am afraid to use stronger stuff in his current state without further information. What the hell happened in that classroom?" she cursed as she used a syringe to get some more potions into her patient.

"As far as I could get it from Mister Potter, it looks very much like a case of an accidental and rather forceful repulsion of a legilimency probe."

"Really? Impressive and unusual, but not unheard of," Madam Pomfrey spoke. "When we got in, I first checked Mister Potter, according to the old rule that those who scream are at least still alive, but he only showed signs of magical exhaustion," she stated.

"Which fortifies my belief that Mister Potter had forcefully repelled Severus," Dumbledore replied.

"Albus, he completely overloaded Severus' brain and nervous system, shorting him out and causing a seizure. The last time we saw cases like this was the last war! How should a minor, who has no training in the mental arts, be able to copy a feat that only You-know-who was able to?"

"Poppy, you know that there is a kind of feud going on between Severus and Mister Potter?" Dumbledore vaguely implied.

He got his reply by a huff and rolled eyes for his understatement.

"I have tried to get them to get past this issue, but they won't settle their differences," he continued.

"This still doesn't explain anything!" Pomfrey protested.

"My working theory at this point is that Mister Potter does possess some talent for the mental arts that made him register the intrusion. Given their animosity, he might instinctively have used all his magic in order to drive Severus out," Dumbledore quickly gave an explanation

"Whatever. According to our experience from such cases, I think I can sedate him with some draught of living death until the nerve damage has healed. That might take up to a month, but I'm not sure whether or not he will retain some permanent injury from this," Madame Pomfrey replied, ceding the pointless argument.

"I know you will do your best, Poppy," Dumbledore said in a supportive voice.

"Of course I will, Albus," the nurse huffed. "Did you know about him being a Legilimencer? I can't fathom what possessed him to use such a skill on students, of all people. You know how blatantly illegal this is."

"I believe must confess I did, he used it to keep tabs on the darker elements of his House, but I assumed he would be responsible about it. I had no idea," Dumbledore lied through his teeth while shaking his head gravely, before walking off.

Poppy Pomfrey just shook her head sadly as she watched her boss walk off. She knew Albus long enough to know that he did not only know, but probably was privy to all information gained. Once more, his gambling had caused some else troubles. No wonder Albus only played his games with other people's lives.

Sighing, she pulled the syringe of the draught and sedated her patient, before bustling over to her other patient and his visitor. By the way their lips were connected, Mister Potter was fit to be released already. But only after a stern lecture - she had a reputation to uphold.

_**ooOOoo**_

The next morning found Harry and Hermione walking down the road to Hogsmeade, hand in hand, enjoying the mild weather. It wasn't that warm, but it was an enjoyable day. They were talking merrily, ignoring the stupid talk in the castle.

While the general assembly of the students were rather happy that Snape was out of commission for a few weeks - due to an unfortunate Potions mishap in class, the official version said - the stupid article was still floating around, and the rumour mill speeded up, again. But after all they had been through, lately; it was nothing they couldn't cope with, although Hermione was getting used to always having a hand on Harry's arm.

This was not just for comfort reasons and to show how wrong the article was, but for safety, as well. Yesterday afternoon, she only barely managed to keep a Ravenclaw sixth year from being beaten to a pulp for a remark he dropped in passing. The boy obviously thought he was out of listening range when he joked to his friends. Harry had already pushed the boy into a wall and wound up for a devastating blow when she finally managed to grab him and pull him away from the dazed boy. With his new strength, she was positive that he would have hurt him seriously.

But there have been some positive things, as well. Also yesterday, upon returning to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry had been received as if he just had won the House Cup single-handedly. Banners were hung on the walls, and the people were cheering and chanting Harry's name all over. The twins were kneeling on the floor, kowtowing to Harry in an exaggerated way, and butterbeer was passed around as the people celebrated Snape getting his due.

Then a procession of people slapping Harry's back began, with Ginny and the Quidditch girls even hugging Harry. Some fourth year girl with black locks even tried to kiss Harry, but got shouldered away by Hermione, and quickly dove into the crowd to avoid getting hexed by the very irate Hermione.

As it was hard to stay angry around the twins for long, she had soon relaxed as they handed her a bottle of butterbeer and some pastries - untainted, they assured her; they would never dare to mess with the girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Smote-Snape. Then they repeatedly demanded a blow-by-blow recount of the events to improve their re-enaction as the party gained momentum.

Walking along the path to the town on this relatively nice morning that promised to become a gorgeous day, they chatted about stuff only a couple could find interesting while Harry's arm found his way around her waist, the other hand out of play because of holding a picnic basket.

True to their orders from Sirius's note, they had filled a bag with some food they managed to nick from the table; chicken legs, bacon and even a loaf of bread. Hermione was sure Harry wouldn't get away with something that big, but he just stroked his hand over it and wandlessly cast his notice-me-not charm, before pocketing the bread. She wanted to be able to do that, too!

They idly wandered through the town, ignoring the occasionally pointed finger and were exchanging side-hugs and the odd kiss on the cheek while window-shopping. Hermione even had the cheek to loudly complain about "Stupid Skeeter pulling tales out of her ass" and "Beedle wrote more facts than Skeeter does" - whoever that Beedle guy was - whenever she found some nosy person lingering too close. Harry laughed along with her, having a blast.

At first, they made a tour to fetch the supplies they urgently needed, which of course meant that they spent a good portion of that time in the bookstore. Harry gladly went along with it. While he didn't share the love for books that Hermione possessed - he doubted anyone on earth did - his views had changed slightly over time. Studying was less a bother than a pastime now. Under duress, he might even admit that it could be fun. Finishing up their shopping in less time than anticipated, they enjoyed a good lunch at the 'Three Broomsticks', and Hermione bought five extra bottles of butterbeer, to stow in her mostly empty bag - "For a picnic later."

Finally, they found themselves heading to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, where the houses were scattered and no shops and less people. They walked on the path between the houses with small gardens until they found a worn path into the hills, just like Sirius had told them. Following the path, they soon had climbed the hill and reached a small clearing with a cave in the background. Right in front of the cave, wagging its tail and holding a newspaper between its teeth sat a large, shabby dog. Happily, both children jogged closer, when suddenly the dog's demeanour changed. It raised its hackles and dropped the paper, growling menacingly at them, canines bared. Harry immediately threw himself around and drew his wand, assuming that they were followed, but found nothing.

"Sirius? What's wrong?" Hermione's voice was heard behind him while he concentrated on his senses, but couldn't make out any sound at all. Not even animals. He hadn't thought about that earlier, but now it was obvious.

"It's too silent," he hissed, scanning the surroundings. He could hear something faint behind him, near the cave. Something big.

As he was turning to face that threat, Sirius suddenly called out behind him. "Harry! Boy, what happened to you?" This was immediately followed by a huge hug, before he cuffed Harry lightly. "Now that was mean, pranking old Padfoot like that. Spill! What kind of charm did you use for that - the moment I saw you, all my senses told me I'd end up as your lunch somehow. I nearly pissed myself!"

"Later Sirius, there is something in that cove over there," Harry hissed, pointing at the trees in question with his wand.

"That's Buckbeak, no worries, he's bound to a tree over there, maybe we should get over there to get you two reacquainted," Sirius replied.

"Ahem, I don't think this is a very good idea," Hermione piped up after she had let the guys greet each other. "The way you felt - that's all part of the things we wrote you about - the owl you sent didn't even dare to come closer than three feet to Harry. I was forced to get the note from the poor thing. I certainly don't want to know how a Hippogriff would react to Harry," she explained. Harry had to swallow the lump in his throat that formed as he remembered what Buckbeak did just because he felt insulted by Draco.

"Blimey, that's odd. In that case, we should better reschedule the visit with Buckbeak for later. And now, gimme that food in your bag - I only had rat and junk for days and I'm starved," Sirius told them, staring hungrily at the full bag at Harry's side, making all of them laugh.

When Harry removed the bread, Sirius was happy, after the bacon and chicken wings, he was ecstatic. But when Hermione pulled the butterbeer out of her bag, Sirius jumped at her and spun her around, making her shriek in surprise. "You're the best, girl! A real angel!" He laughed, along with Harry, while Hermione was blushing like mad.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ok, now that the food is here, how about you tell me about stuff," Sirius said while grabbing a chicken wing.

Hermione took out her 'Harry journal' and started recounting. "When Harry recovered from the first task, in the span of less than an hour, his sight went from near blind to hawk eye, while he now has a sense of smell and hearing probably equal to your Padfoot form. Also, he displayed superhuman strength later that night when he lifted and threw Weasley across the room with just one hand," she said, and couldn't keep from smiling at the memory of Harry defending her.

"Really? Let me see," Sirius demanded between bites, reaching for the notebook. When Hermione procrastinated to hand it over, he sighed, wiped his hands on his clothes, and beckoned again, this time with success. Emptying a bottle of butterbeer in one gulp, he started leafing through the notes, looking for some details and maybe a pattern, mumbling some stuff as he read on.

"A notice-me-not charm works only shy of two hours?" He asked incredulously, looking at Harry.

"It's down to one hour," he answered, making Hermione look up.

"What? Since when?" she asked.

"Before the second task, it didn't last through class already, and after the task, it has dropped to about an hour."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione huffed, and got a shrug in response.

"I forgot. I had some other things in mind. Surviving the tournament, rescuing my girlfriend, such stuff," Harry replied calmly, shutting her up quite nicely.

Sirius chuckled a bit at their antics, and then leaned over to Hermione, pointing at an entry in her notes. "Would you care to explain this entry to me?"

"Harry has shown aggressive protective tendencies when I am insulted or in danger," Hermione explained after a quick glance at the page, citing the content from memory without really looking at the writings.

"That's clear, I read that much. I meant those symbols all over that page," Sirius chuckled. Hermione's second look resulted in a sudden blush, which only intensified as Harry spied over her shoulder and guffawed at the hearts she had doodled around that entry.

"Okay, let's see; show me your eyes, Harry," Sirius said and gasped as Harry waved his hand, cancelling the charm.

"Merlin's balls! Wow! You really can do wandless magic! I thought you were pulling my leg!"

"Do you remember me as someone who has the need to invent stuff to have an interesting life?" Harry deadpanned.

"So sue me!" Sirius huffed." Come a bit closer so I can take a better look."

"Well, whatever it was, the dragon is part of it, that for sure. At the second glance, it looks kinda cool, pup - any ideas what it could have been?"

"Look at the last page, I have listed everything there," Hermione said as she reached for the journal. Flipping some pages, she handed it back to Sirius.

"We also are rather sure the dragon is a factor," she told him, to which Sirius nodded between bites of chicken leg.

"A draconian origin might explain the look of the eyes, and maybe the senses and the strength. Come to think of it, it would also explain the magic resistance against charms. Although that should extend to all types of magic," he muttered while he popped the bacon into his mouth as if it were popcorn.

"Does the fact that a gill transfiguration wears off in two hours satisfy you?" Harry prompted, and leaned forward to softly pat the back of the poor coughing man, to help him dislodge the piece of bacon Sirius had inhaled during that statement.

"Are you kidding me? Those should be permanent!" he coughed before draining another butterbeer to soothe his throat.

"As you said, it extends to all types of magic," Harry said.

"Okay, give me some time to read this, maybe I'll find something," Sirius replied, leafing through the notebook. "I am still at loss about how you gained dragon characteristics. You have checked for potion interaction? Oh, yes, there it is. Are you sure that these are all the potions that were administered?"

"Not entirely," Hermione admitted, "We don't know what Pomfrey might have given him while he was knocked out, and of course, we can't determine if there was any contamination in the potions, so we checked for everything, but came up empty."

"I might be of help for that. You see, in my family's mansion, there is a huge library with rare, and mostly dark books, lots of them about obscure and nearly lost ancient rites and potions. Now that you have managed to get out of this tournament and imminent danger, I might head over there and start… " Sirius told them, but faded out as he saw Hermione looking at him with lidded eyes, breathing heavily and with a flush on her cheeks. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

Harry took a whiff of air and turned to look at his girlfriend. He gave a loud laugh at the state she was in. "Down, girl," he shouted, slapping her thigh hard. Hermione nearly jumped to a stand from her seat on the ground, and mentally returned to the present. She groaned and buried her head in Harry's arm as she blushed furiously while Harry explained to Sirius - forgoing some part of the information - that she probably was already mentally delving into all these delightfully rare books, causing both to tease her mercilessly.

"While we're still at it - great work, Harry - getting out of the tournament while getting the bird, you truly are your father's son, pup," Sirius told him with a slap on the shoulder. Hermione raised her head to glare at Sirius for that titular.

"Come on, Hermione, you know you are a cute bird," Sirius whined at her. Hermione still glared at him, but this time, she at least fought a smile while doing so. "How's that, to apologize, I'll have the two of you over, let's say for Easter break, so you can look at these books, okay?" Hermione couldn't help but squeal and bounce in place after hearing that, before she launched herself at Harry for a hug. "I think she's alright with that," Harry replied dryly to the laughing Sirius, while Hermione continued hugging the stuffing out of him.

"Ok, fine! Just give me a few days to make that place presentable, first. Can you stay somewhere for the first two or three days of Easter break?"

"He could stay at Diagon Alley, or I might have him over for a few days," Hermione told him eagerly.

"Although I'd like to stay with you, Pe-Hermione, I don't know why would you wait till the holidays? You could move there in a few days to clean up, couldn't you, Sirius?" Harry asked, quickly covering his near miss.

"No question, Harry, but while you are out of the tournament, this doesn't mean that whoever is after you won't try something else, so I figure it's better if I were at hand," the haggard man told him while raising his bottle at him in a toasting manner.

_**ooOOoo **_

While Sirius read the journal, he asked them some questions about the world cup and Harry's lost wand, something the kids had nearly forgotten over all the tournament stuff. They only reasonable thing that they came up with was that Harry's wand must have been stolen in the box already. After a brief discussion they concluded that the Malfoys were less likely than Crouch's elf, Winky.

During that talk, it turned out that Crouch was the one responsible for Sirius's incarceration without trial, while his own son actually was a Death Eater. If Harry had thought that his or Hermione's opinion of that vile man could get any worse after the way he had treated Winky at the world cup, they were mistaken. Especially Hermione muttered for minutes about things like _'habeas corpus'_ and _'corpus delicti'_, only stopping when Harry muttered something about that he was considering her corpus to be delicious, too, in her ear.

When Harry asked Sirius about a counter to legilimency, Sirius was baffled. "While I'm sure that there is something about that in the Black library, I am at a loss how you two know about it and why you would need that," he said.

"Well, Harry doesn't seem to need it, if we take Snape as an example," Hermione began, which lead to an abrupt termination of her speech by Sirius.

"Snivellius is a legilimencer? I never thought he had a mind of his own, and now he's sneaking around in other people's heads, as well. Wait! What has this bastard done to Harry?"

"Seems he tried to read me, and for whatever reason I have sent him into a screaming seizure when I tried to resist. He's currently in the infirmary, with Pomfrey trying to remove the mixer from his brain," Harry told Sirius with a smile.

Sirius guffawed at hearing that. "Snivellius is down? Good show, pup! I would so love to see what Dumbledore will do to him when he is up again. What he did was highly illegal."

His laughter ceased when he noticed the frowns on the children's faces. "Dumbledore is covering up, isn't he?" he asked warily, receiving curt nods as sole reply. "Stupid old codger… Alright, I'll find something for you to study. There's no way I'll let this stupid slimy git cavort around in your heads," he said with fervour, his eyes sparkling with more than just a hint of malice.

"By the way, did I ever tell you the story about how we made Snape unable to speak, but only to sing in an soprano opera voice for a whole day?" he asked, and immediately launched into telling the kids about the fabled exploits of the Marauders.

_**ooOOoo**_

"It's time to head back," Sirius reminded them after a few hours.

"Would you be so nice to get me a bit of food out here? I think better with a full stomach," he said with a pat on the journal. "I'll copy it later this evening, down in Hogsmeade, where the magic won't raise any suspicion and send it back with the first owl you send me, right?"

Harry took a look at the torn face of his girlfriend at the thought of leaving a book behind, and faced Sirius again. "You know that this is the equivalent to taking a hostage, right?"

_**ooOOoo**_

As soon as the two kids were back in the castle, Hermione dragged Harry into the kitchens to get a huge package of food assembled, just small enough to still be carried by owl after a featherlight charm applied.

The elves were helpful as ever, and soon, they were on the way to the Owlery. Arriving there, they were greeted by a series of squawks and screeches as most owls evacuated the room in panic as soon as they entered. Only Hedwig stayed behind, her feathers puffed as she stared down at her owner. After a long look at Harry, she finally seemed to shrug it off and sailed down through the floating dust and feathers left by the stampede, to roost on Harry's arm. She gave him another wary look, but then started to rub her head on his face, making soft barking noises.

Relieved that his beloved familiar had seen beyond his appearance, Harry took his time to pet the beautiful owl for an extensive time. He was helped by a eager Hermione, before they sent her off to Sirius

"Don't forget, you need to wait there until he gives you the book he has to return to us," Hermione firmly reminded Hedwig as she anxiously paced in front of the bird. Harry shook his head in mirth and exchanged a quick glance with Hedwig, who seemed to shrug.

Hedwig barked dutifully and took flight with the basket.

"And peck him if he doesn't!" Hermione called after her. Harry couldn't help but double over with laughter as she did so.

Irritated, Hermione turned to face Harry.

"I'm in the library - you'll wait here - don't bother me until she's back. With the book!" She snapped at him before she stormed off, under the laughter of a very amused Harry.

_**OoOOoo**_

Half an hour later, a very smug Hedwig landed on the windowsill outside of the 'lair' and wasted no time to peck at the window to make her presence known. Harry looked up from his book and smiled. Of course, he didn't wait in the drafty tower, Hedwig would find him anywhere, so he might as well be comfy. Not as comfy as Crooks was on his warm mini couch, of course. Although only a cat could lie on its back with all limbs sprawled and still look comfy, he thought as he stood and went to the window.

"Hey girl," he softly said as he opened the window to let the bird in. "Had a nice flight?"

Hedwig hopped in and took a short flight to the table, where a bluebell flame danced merrily on a plate, heating the room. She landed right next to the flame and fluffed her feathers up.

"That cold?" Harry said, sticking his arm out through the weather curtain charm Hogwarts had on every window. He quickly pulled it back as he crossed the threshold of that charm and was exposed to the weather out there. "That's a nasty drizzle out there. Feels freezing," he said as he approached the table.

Hedwig barked in reply, bobbed her head and turned to dry her other side.

"So you got the book. Well done. Did you need to peck him?" Harry spoke as he relieved her of the 'burden' of the shrunk journal, ruffling her feathers as he scratched her chest.

Hedwig barked again, looking rather comfortable as she allowed him to scratch under her wings.

"But you did it anyway, didn't you?" Harry laughed as he went to appease his girl with the released hostage.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hey, Herm..."

Harry's words died in his throat as he turned the shelves and found Hermione. He was too shocked to say a word as he stared at his girlfriend, who hadn't noticed him, yet.

_**AN:**_

Thanks to all the people sinking their time into my tale. Alix33, embirsiphonelilathia and joelawyer.

I noticed that I treated this story like a step-child, lately. Please give it the attention it yearns for.


	9. Where's the white knight when I need him

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 8: Where's the white knight when I need him?**

Harry was shaking his head as he walked towards their room.

"I never would have coined you a 'Take That' fangirl. Never!" he said in wonder, while Hermione huffed next to him.

"I'm not a fangirl!" she hissed with vigor. "I just like that song. It's number one in the charts, so I'm certainly not the only one," she huffed, and increased her pace a bit more, clinging onto the returned journal. "At least you didn't drop it," she huffed.

"You sang that song while reading, that's pretty significant for you," Harry teased. "How many concerts did you attend?"

"Cut it out," Hermione huffed as she sped up her walk again as they turned into the last corridor. Harry actually had to fall into a slow trot to catch up with her as she dove under the wall curtain hiding the door.

"Come on, you slacker! We have work to do," she shouted as soon as the door fell into the latch behind him. Harry just smirked at her as she walked over to the bookshelf and pulled one of the books she'd stored there.

"Why are you standing around like a lemon on Friday? Get moving - we need to get you proficient in glamour charms," she hissed at him with such vigour that even Crookshanks raised his head for a moment before he gave a yawn, arched his back and curled up the other way.

Harry wanted to reply with another witty remark, but her glare convinced him to let it slide and to dig for his books, instead. Quickly!

_***** The next morning, Great Hall *****_

"I have an administrative announcement to make. For those of you who might not have heard the rumours spreading, Professor Snape has been injured in a potion mishap due to contaminated ingredients," Dumbledore proclaimed from his spot at the head table. This did not come as a surprise to the student body, as it already was up on the message boards since last night that there would be an announcement at breakfast.

At this point, many heads in the hall turned to Harry, who fumed silently at this blatant misinformation. Not that Gryffindor would believe that version, but it was plain visible that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would eat up the official version. Slytherin as a whole was also displeased about the decision, but in Harry's opinion, they didn't count; they wanted his head on a pike from the day he stepped into Hogwarts.

"The student has been found not at fault, it was a simple error on the apothecary's part. The student wasn't harmed, but Professor Snape had the ill fortune to be hit by a fair amount of the reaction," Dumbledore continued.

At this point, the noise level rose so dramatically that Dumbledore had to clear his throat loudly to remind people of his presence.

"That means he will be unable to resume his duties for some time - for that reason, I will substitute for Professor Snape in Potions class," he continued when he had regained their attention, somewhat.

That announcement made the Great Hall fall silent, instantly. "I am sure we all are hoping that Professor Snape recovers speedily ," he said, mistaking the silence for sympathy. "For now, Professor Snape needs rest, but I will advise you when his condition will allow for visitors," he concluded, completely oblivious to the unbelieving stares he received from throughout the room.

"That's all for now, so tuck in," Dumbledore concluded, and sat down, himself. As usual, this signalled the elves that food should be served.

"Some saner minds might question how Snape got hit across the room, while we were missed completely," Hermione all but growled under her breath, while the rest of the hall erupted in loud murmurs at the prospect of a Snape-free period and what Potions under Dumbledore might look like, while fighting for the best morsels.

After living through the rest of breakfast without giving in to the urge to feast on Slytherin livers, Harry couldn't wait to leave the Great Hall, with Hermione hot on his heels.

"Where are you going?" Hermione demanded as he pulled her along.

"I need some fresh air, I think I'm going for a ride on my broomstick. It's been ages since I last sat on it, and I need to blow off some steam. And since you don't let me do it in my preferred way," he ranted, stopping in confusion when she slapped him.

"What?"

"That won't get you anywhere, I'm not ready for that, yet," Hermione huffed, glaring at him.

"Hu? What?" Harry asked, bewildered by her reaction, before he caught on. "I meant that you won't let me beat someone up," he said with a wide grin. "But I like the way you are thinking," he stated, before he valiantly chose to leg it, a screeching Hermione in hot pursuit.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I'll get you for that," she chuntered after Harry finally came down from the boys' dormitory. Instead of chasing after him, she had chosen to wait downstairs to regain her breath. You can't properly rant at somebody while winded.

"I hope you do," Harry replied cheekily, wearing his thick robes against the wind chill to come, his flying gear and having his broom slung over his shoulder.

"You think this thing is still safe to fly?" Hermione asked as she pointed out the worn condition of the broomstick.

Harry took another look at it. The bristles weren't as pristine as they once were, and there were a couple of nicks in the handle. "I think it's only cosmetic. I expected worse after the task, but I won't complain," he said. "But I'll have to fly it to find out."

Hermione just shrugged. "Ok, let me get something to read, then," she said, making her way up the stairs to the girls' dorms.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I guess it needs maintenance. It has lost some power, and veers to the left," Harry said after he had spent nearly an hour cris-crossing the sky over the Quidditch pitch.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said after she had put her book away. "Think it can be repaired?"

"I don't know. I hope they can fix it at Diagon Alley, I guess I'll check it in for a thorough service over the summer," Harry replied thoughtfully.

"Come on, I'm chilly. Although I like watching you fly, I'm in need of some hot chocolate," Hermione said as she stood.

"Good idea. Let's raid the kitchen, I bet the elves can do something about that," Harry joked as he pulled her next to him, starting on their way back.

"Hey, look - what's Hagrid doing over there?" Hermione said as they passed a spot where they could see Hagrid's cabin. "Looks like he's doing gardening."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "No, he's burying something. Looks like coins to me," he said.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said. "Why would he do that?"

"Who am I, Merlin? I saw what I saw," Harry griped back, "Come on, I thought you wanted something."

"Hey, I just asked a question, no need to be like that," she replied defensively as they walked along.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled back. " I didn't mean to, it's just my broom, you know," he said.

"Well, due to these extraordinary circumstances and emotional distress, I'll forgive you, this time," Hermione proclaimed in an overly posh voice, and started to run when Harry growled, "Why you..."

They quickly dashed up to Gryffindor Tower to stash Harry's gear and Hermione's warm coat. Not much later, they turned into the corridor with the painting that led to the kitchen. It didn't take long to tickle the pear and gain entry, and even less to be assaulted by a certain employee of those.

"HARRY POTTER, SIR!"

As always, Harry cringed slightly as Dobby cried across the room. At least, he had enough time to prepare himself for what would happen once the elf had managed to cross the room. Dobby slid to a halt in front of them in his socks, smiling brightly as he gesticulated wildly.

"Harry Potter, Sir is coming to visit Dobby? Harry Potter is the greatest wizard, ever!" he squeaked his customary praises. "What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"Hello Dobby, great to see you. Could we impose on you to get two hot chocolates?" Hermione answered in Harry's stead. She hadn't even finished her demand when a handful of elves already started pushing and shoving each other out of their way in the rush for the beverages. A couple of moments later, the victor was padding towards them, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs, and sporting a huge shiner.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look and a shrug, Hermione having learned not too long ago to not comment anything the elves did.

"Thank you," she told the elf, who giggled and scampered off, under her unbelieving gaze. Harry masked his grin by pretending to blow on his chocolate.

"How's Winky doing?" Hermione asked as she took a seat at the table they used to eat on.

Dobby's ears drooped slightly when that topic came up. "Not too well, she's still thinking that Mister Crouch be needing her," he said.

"'Couse he ishhhhh," a squeaky voice called out from over the fireplace, causing all elves in the room to flinch in synch.

"Mister Crou-hic-sss is needing hish winky to take care of him. Winky ish besht elf, she keppsh all her mashtersh - hic - shecritsh," she loudly proclaimed, punctuating that statement with a huge burp..

Hermione stared in shock at the lone figure squatting in the corner next to the fireplace, butterbeer bottles neatly stacked next to her. She had already taken on the same fire-blackened color as the wall, and was rambling to herself, occasionally taking swigs from the bottle in her hand, which looked huge on her.

"What is wrong with her?" she whispered to Dobby.

"Winky being drinking too much, she's getting through six bottles a day, miss," Dobby sadly whispered back, trying not to be overheard by the other elves, who shot Winky disapproving glances.

"That's not that much," Harry stated, trying to lighten the mood.

"For an elf, it is," Dobby stated, watching her take another swig and slumping down, suddenly starting to snore, loudly.

"She looks awful," Hermione said sadly. "Someone should do something about that!"

Immediately, some elves ran and draped a large checked tablecloth over Winky, hiding her from view.

"That doesn't help!" Hermione scolded them loudly for misinterpreting her intentions.

A big kerfuffle ensued as all the elves started running in every direction. Some tucked the tablecloth in, neatly, while one put a nice dressing runner over the cloth hiding Winky. Looking at Hermione, his ears drooped as he saw her disbelieving stare. He ran off and returned hopefully, carrying some colorful ribbons, while others placed some potted plants around the bundle, and put some cut flowers into the stacked bottles.

"Ahmm, much better," Harry stated diplomatically, carefully pulling a still baffled Hermione out of the kitchen before she - and the kitchen - blow up, in the very same order.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I still can't believe they've done that," Hermione still ranted next morning at breakfast. Harry had insisted that they take it in the Great Hall, avoiding trouble with the elves. He had an easy time selling that to Hermione, as she insisted that they avoid the kitchen out of protest. He just nodded and went along with her rant.

Just then, the post owls arrived, and almost immediately, a Daily Prophet landed in front of Hermione. Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I don't want to hear everything second-hand from the Slytherins," she replied.

"So you subscribed the Prophet? Clever idea. Doesn't hurt to know stuff," Harry agreed as he took another fork full of his eggs. He stopped it just in front of his mouth as another piece of post landed in front of her. And another, and another, and another.

"Just how many papers did you subscribe to?" He asked while the owls continued to hurl letters at Hermione.

"Why, just the Prophet - these are letters," Hermione replied, quite confused. Reaching for the first one, she opened and read it, her face coloring as she slapped it down on the table. "Oh really?" she huffed, reaching for the next one. "What? I never!" she hissed and teared the letter apart.

"Need help?" Harry asked and opened one of the letters. When he had read what was written with cut-out letter from a newspaper, his ears were quite red. That was only temporary, though, as the next letter insulted Hermione so thoroughly that the color spread to the whole face, as his eyes narrowed. He was just about to scream in incoherent rage, as a pained shout from Hermione interrupted his build-up.

"What's wrong," he asked, but immediately recognised the signs. Only one substance would look like that and create the ugly boils on her hand - undiluted Bubotuber pus. Hermione was desperately trying to wipe it away with her napkin, but it was only spreading it over the hand.

"We'd better get you to the hospital wing," Harry said. Hermione nodded weakly, almost in tears from the pain the boils caused her, and quickly rushed out, while Harry briefly stayed back to collect the letters. He took extra care with the trapped one, wrapping it in a napkin to keep himself safe.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Now, this should take care of the worst, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey spoke as she finished dressing Hermione's hands. "You need to stay a while until the swelling goes back, I'll give you something against the pain."

Bustling around and fetching a potion, she held out the flask for Hermione to drink. Hermione weakly raised her hands to reach for it, but Harry came to her help and fed it to her, which she accepted, a bit embarrassed, but thankfully.

"You should go back to class, Mister Potter," Pomfrey stated.

"I'll stay."

"Mister Potter. I assure you that I got everything in hand and there is nothing you can do. So unless you are injured, you do not belong here, but in class," Pomfrey stated quite firmly.

A long staring contest ensued, and after a couple of moments, without breaking eye contact, Harry simply reached for the bundle of letters, sticking his hand into the wrapped one. Pulling it out again, two of his fingers were already swelling, boils erupting all over them.

"Ow?" he said softly, in a light-hearted manner that made Pomfrey stare back at him in shock.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I can't believe you did that," Hermione said when the still huffing nurse had finally cleaned up Harry's hands and went looking for some stuff.

"She won't hold it against me. I know her better than most of the students here," Harry shrugged it off as he also sat onto the bed she was sitting on. "Also, you were in pain and needed me, and it was the only way to stay there," he said.

"Also, it isn't that bad," he said, looking at the blistered skin on his fingers. "But it got the message across and gave her an excuse to let the rules slide."

Hermione took one look at her still bandaged hands and sighed. "Still, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do."

"Thank you," she whispered as she planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"Please refrain from this if you want to remain here, Mister Potter! Back to your bed," Pomfrey called out shirtily from the door to the apothecary. Harry was close to retort, as he was only the recipient of that kiss, but knew that this wouldn't help, at all, so he relented and moved back to his bed.

Madame Pomfrey bustled over and readied a tablet on a stand next to his bed. Reaching for his hand, she started studying the boils on it.

"The swelling has stopped, right. Now we need to get rid of the boils," she said, pulling the cloth off the tablet, revealing some nasty looking medical tools. Hermione was positive that she had only used the needle on her hands, but Harry wasn't privy to that kind of information and looked uneasily at the knives and probes of various sizes. Of course, Pomfrey had noticed this.

"What, Mister Potter, are you regretting your hasty decision?"

Harry took one look at the nurse, the tablet and Hermione, each, and then settled his gaze on his girlfriend.

"No."

Pomfrey huffed lightly at that reply. "Those Potters," she muttered under her breath. "Now hold still, this will hurt a bit," she said, picking up the instrument with the long, but narrow needle.

"Could you call Professor McGonagall and tell her that we need her?" Hermione spoke while Harry cringed and tried to look anywhere but at the needle.

"Why?" Pomfrey asked while she started lancing the boils. Hermione quickly had to look away, retching slightly as the pus broke out.

"I want to file charges, hate-mail is one thing, but that was entirely too much," she said, swallowing to fight the sour taste in her mouth.

Madame Pomfrey looked up and at her for a moment. "I'll tell her to visit, but I doubt it would happen before lunch break, " she said, continuing her work. "You won't be leaving before lunch, anyway," she said as she targeted another, rather ripe boil, which popped with a nasty sound.

"That's ok," Hermione hastily reassured the nurse, cringing as hard as Harry did.

_**ooOOoo**_

To no one's surprise, Dumbledore accompanied Professor McGonagall when she showed up during lunch break. Also, even less surprising, it was him who did the talking.

"Hello, Miss Granger, Mister Potter," he spoke as he took position at the foot of Hermione's bed, McGonagall to his right and slightly behind him.

"It came to my notion that you are seeking legal counsel over that little prank," he told Hermione, who didn't believe her ears.

"Prank? If I'd gotten some of that in my eye, I'd be blind!" she gasped.

"Now, now. While that would have been unfortunate, it didn't come to this. We shouldn't blow this out of proportion, right?"

"Just like we shouldn't inquire in the attack on me?" Harry growled.

"Attack? What attack?" McGonagall inquired.

"Nothing," Dumbledore replied.

"I am referring to the failed Legilimency attempt at me by _Professor _Snape," Harry replied acidly.

"What? Didn't you think we'd be able to figure it out on ourselves?" Harry spat as Dumbledore stared at him in shock.

"Given the facts that he somehow entered my mind and used an incantation that started with _'Legili'_, it took us less than an hour in the library to find out what he had done. _Hogwarts, a History_ has four or five references, alone!"he spat, Hermione looking positively smug.

Professor McGonagall turned to Dumbledore for confirmation. "Albus?" she asked, warily. Even Madame Pomfrey stopped her usual tasks to hear how he would reply to a direct question.

Professor Dumbledore was stalling a bit before he gave an answer. "Sometimes, people are forced to commit a lesser evil to keep a greater from occurring," he sadly proclaimed. "I must admit that Professor Snape truly did occasionally check on his students using that art in order to keep them reined in. For some reason, he seemed to have used it on Mister Potter, whose forcible adverse reaction caused Professor Snape's current state."

"And still, you declared it a mishap," Harry huffed.

"I was sure that you'd agree that he is punished enough, already, and would not seek petty revenge, my boy," Dumbledore replied.

When everybody started looking around to look for Snape at this cue, Madam Pomfrey had an explanation for the Potion Master's absence.

"He's in his private chambers. He is physically as good as he could be; his occasional screaming fits can't be helped and are disturbing to other patients. I placed him in home care with an elf watching over his needs and under orders to fetch me as soon as he shows signs of waking up."

Dumbledore sighed gravely. "You see, justice has been served, already. I must implore on you to let this slide," he said, getting nothing but a huff in return.

"And you want me to let things slide, as well?" Hermione added her huff to the derailed conversation.

For a moment, Professor McGonagall seemed puzzled what she was referring to, until she recalled the original cause for the visit.

Dumbledore once more let go of a grave sigh, before he addressed Hermione. "Given the current state of affairs, I don't think that anything good would come from it."

"I'd certainly would think that punishing people for assault is something good," Hermione replied.

"Miss Granger, even if you would raise charges, there is no way the letters could be traced back to the originator. There is no such thing as a return address with post owls."

"Then take fingerprints," Harry huffed.

"Finger what?" McGonagall inquired.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "Minerva, the Muggles had the ingenious idea to use a technique that makes smears left by fingers visible. They can use these unique marks to identify the person that handled the object," he explained. McGonagall did look impressed, but baffled at the same time, looking at her fingertips.

"Anyway, this won't work, as we don't have any registry we could check those marks against, Miss Granger. And we certainly can't have them compared to all wizardkind, can we?" he chuckled.

"You see, it won't help at all, so best leave sleeping dragons untickled," he concluded.

"Now see how the time flies when you're among friends," he suddenly said, checking his watch. "I'm afraid we need to continue that conversation at some later point, for we mustn't be late for class."

Not five minutes after the professors had left the room, Hermione already had pulled some parchment out of the bag lying next to her bed and already fishing for other utensils.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he watched her clumsily arranging ink and quills on the bedside cabinet with her bandaged and stiff hands.

"I'm writing a letter! When you think he can just play his games and confuse me out of calling the aurors, you've got another thing coming," she huffed.

"Let me help," Harry offered as she fumbled with her inkwell's cork.

"No way, your scrawl is illegible," she huffed as she dipped her quill into the well, using both hands. Moving the quill's tip over the parchment, she tried to start writing, but ended up with only a huge blot of ink.

"On second thought," she said sheepishly as she handed the quill over to Harry. "There is some more parchment in the first compartment of my bag..."

_**ooOOoo**_

"I wonder how long it will take for them to react," Hermione said for the umpteenth time as they crossed the lawn to Hagrid's hut, arriving late for Care. They already missed Herbology, but Hermione insisted in at least taking part in the last part of Hagrid's lesson when they were released by a still huffing Pomfrey.

Currently, Hedwig was winging south, carrying their message to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, short DMLE.

"Dunno, I guess Hedwig will take at least 4-5 hours to do the trip, and if the Aurors are working as fast as Uncle Vernon attributes to government, and considering Floo travel and Apparition, they might be here by tomorrow. Next week, tops," Harry joked.

Hermione shot him a nasty look as she continued rubbing her bandaged hands.

"At least, we'll find out what Hagrid was digging for," Harry changed topics. In fact, they could see their classmates milling around the perimeter of Hagrid's hut.

"Hullo Harry, Hermione," Hagrid's voice rang out as they approached the group. "Nice to see 'yer. Grab yerself a Niffler, and join the group," he spoke, pointing at a corral.

Harry lifted his bandaged hand for Hagrid to see better. The huge man's face took on an embarrassed note as he noticed that neither Harry nor Hermione would be able to carry out his order.

"Well, I, um... Just watch and take notes... I mean, pay attention, right?" he stammered. Harry shot him a wide grin, which brightened Hagrid's mood immediately.

"Well, class, now let's see how much gold yer Nifflers had dug out," his voice carried over the field, where the oversize mole-like creatures were digging in and out of the ground like dolphins in the waves.

Harry kept a bit of distance, but they were oblivious to his presence, being just as concentrated on the gold as Harry's classmates. Hermione's calm voice, in which she whispered everything she knew about Nifflers, almost didn't register with him. His attention was rather focused on the mole-like creatures.

Finally, Harry was so fascinated that he involuntarily made a step forward. He immediately noticed that he was moving on autopilot, but Hagrid had noticed, as well. Hagrid shot him a confused glance, and then turned the other way. Immediately, his loud voice rang out over the grounds.

"Oy, Goyle! No need ter pocket the gold, it's Leprechaun gold!"

While Goyle reluctantly removed the coins from his pocket, Hagrid turned back towards Harry and gave him a wink and a nod, mouthing "Thank you!"

"Aw, how despicable. Stealing! And _in_ class. Good you noticed him," Hermione complimented, while Harry blushed awkwardly .

_**ooOOoo**_

"Miss Granger, is there something the matter?"

Hermione sat up, startled, as Professor Vector had spoken to her.

"No, nothing, Professor," she hastily replied.

"Good, then please follow class and stop staring at the door."

"Yes Professor, sorry Professor," Hermione replied, fighting the blush that had begun to creep into her cheeks.

At the same time, next to her, Harry was biting his lip to fight the chuckle. This was the first time that Hermione had been chewed out for misbehaving in class. Ok, the first time it was done rightfully.

_**ooOOoo**_

The next morning, another flock of owls delivered letters to Hermione. This time, she only checked if it was from a legit sender, and simply stacked the hate mail on the table, without reading any of them. Since there wasn't any mail worth reading, she kept looking at the Great Door, hoping it'd fly open in a dramatic entry of some Aurors coming to her help.

"Eat something," Harry urged her on. She had barely touched any food yesterday, and her table wasn't even filled, yet.

"They'll come any minute," Hermione murmured, absent-mindedly reaching for some toast, and nibbling on the corner.

Harry sighed in the face of her desperate clinging to the hope of authority riding in on a white steed and saving the day. He knew very well that there was no chance that her letter would trigger any response, but he hadn't the heart to kill her hope, just yet.

_**ooOOoo**_

This daily routine continued for most of the week, and far into the next, the volume dwindling just as much as Hermione's hopes of Aurors finally contacting her to follow up her complaint. Naturally, her mood followed that slope.

It was somehow fitting that it were the ides of March when the door finally opened, just before dinner. Hermione perked up when that happened, only to be flooded by a feeling of betrayal that was very fitting for the date.

Making a big entry was none other than Snape.

"Dear students," Professor Dumbledore proclaimed from his place at the table, where he had risen from his chair as Snape had entered the Great Hall. "Please welcome Professor Snape back in our midst," he spoke, starting to clap slowly.

Slytherin immediately joined in, cheering and clapping their hands raw as their protector had returned. The absence of their Head of House had a huge impact on the House Cup. All other Houses had overtaken Slytherin, even Hufflepuff was 46 points ahead of them. Not surprising to anyone outside of Slytherin - without Professor Snape taking points left, right, and center, but never from Slytherins, for the first time in 15 years, the Hourglasses showed the true values.

Ravenclaw was 108 points ahead of Gryffindor, not surprising given the fact that this year, there was no Quidditch to improve their point tally. Still, they were 23 points ahead of the Hufflepuffs.

Thus, the other Houses only reacted with polite applause, with some people even faking it rather than actually having their hands meet in a clap for Snape. Only a few, prominently featuring among them, Harry, reacted honestly and refused to participate.

The entry wasn't as pompous as it was planned, though. What Snape had been through had left a mark. His hair was greasy and limp, as always, but to the attentive observer, it was evident that it was due to negligence, not due the careful application of pomade.

The sneer, while haughty and contemptuous, wasn't as sharp. The old Snape could practically bisect people with a single glance, but the aplomb was gone. He barely met the eyes of the students disrespecting him by silence, just enough to make them uncomfortable. Most obvious, when his look accidentally came across Harry, he turned his head away so sharply that he nearly stumbled from inertia. He tried to cover up by glaring Colin Creevey into a cringing bundle of misery, but more than a few had noticed.

After he had reached the head table, he sat without addressing the student body, not even sneering into the room. Professor Dumbledore diffused the situation by clapping his hands, signalling the elves to serve the food.

Harry immediately reached for the pork chops, while Hermione only took some roasted potatoes, again staring wistfully at the door.

"Hermione, you can't go on like this. You have to eat something," Harry cooed, trying to put at least a chicken leg on her plate.

"Alright, but not this one," Hermione relented, wrinkling her nose.

"But you love chicken," Harry protested.

"I do, but I like them golden."

Harry's gaze swivelled between the chicken leg and Hermione's face. "And?"

"This one is burnt!"

Harry eyes the morsel a bot closer. "Eh? It's just crisp!"

"Crisp? Honestly, Harry! This thing is charcoal!" Hermione protested as she took some legs for herself.

Harry huffed, but chose to say nothing as Hermione started eating like a Weasley, the hunger finally registering with her. Poor girl, she obviously had been delirious, already. That chicken leg was much lighter than the pork chops on his plate.

_**ooOOoo**_

During the meal, nobody noticed how Snape flinched when the candles flared to life as the time passed and the room darkened. For a moment, he stared wide-eyed at the now lit candlesticks floating to his right, his nostrils flaring, before he shuddered and moved his seat a bit more to the left.

_**AN:**_

I'm sorry that it took so long to update, but since Christmas, I was either ill, stressed out or both. Writer's block was a constant, though. Still, I managed to get this thing jury-rigged and am working on the next chapters of "Rocking the boat".

Oh, and I'm not sorry at all for the cruel cliffy from last chapter - in most stories, whenever Harry's girl is alone, she gets accosted by the jerk of the day or does something stupid. I always wanted to poke fun at that.

I once more do thank the people valiantly saving your eyes from the grammar I'd produce without oversight. Alix33, embirsiphonelilathia.


	10. Who's there? Friend or foe?

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 9: Who's there? Friend or foe?**

Hermione was primed like a bomb by the time they'd made it back into the common room. While they were fetching their books, the rumor mill got going, and by the time they reconvened at the study table, it had reached full momentum.

"Too bad Snape is up, again. Potions was almost bearable without him," was heard from some sixth years, who were passing by, chatting, just in range to be overheard.

"Don't know what that buffoon did to knock out Snape, not that I don't approve of the result," a girl replied.

Hermione was quite miffed at them for insulting Harry, who didn't care. He didn't see himself as smart, and was used to being called worse, at 'home'.

"Yeah, I don't know what she sees in him. Granger dresses up nicely if she cares to, and is pretty smart. Guess it's the money, or the fame," another guy spoke as they reached the stairs and disappeared up.

If there were a meter attached to Hermione's temple, you would have seen the needle crawl into the red zone as he spoke. Harry noticed the growing amount of adrenaline in the air as Mount Peaches got primed for an eruption, but since he was the only one with that kind of warning system, it was futile.

"Or he's a real stud in the sack, you know, it's always the quiet ones," Dean laughed a few tables away, playing gobstones with Ron, either too stupid or insensitive to keep his voice down.

"Well, as far as I know, they probably are going at it like bunnies," was the reply from Seamus, which finally set Hermione off.

"Bugger all of you!" she yelled, long past the point of mild cussing. Standing up, she slammed her hand onto the desk.

"No matter what I do, you stupid gits will always believe rumors over the truth. If I get hanged for it, anyway, I could just as well commit the crime!" She hissed at them, shoving her books into her bag.

"Come, Harry, let's go to your dorm," she said, leaving for the boys' staircase, leaving her gobsmacked classmates behind.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Do I need to thank Dean and Seamus for being assholes?" Harry asked as he caught up with Hermione at the third floor, playing with fire.

Hermione huffed and climbed the last stairs to the fourth floor, barging through the door.

Immediately after Harry stepped through, she threw it shut and spelled it. When she added another locking spell and a silencing spell, Harry became nervous.

Hermione immediately recognized Harry's bed and approached it. Kicking off her shoes, she reached into her shirt. After some strange contortions, she suddenly pulled her white cotton bra out of her sleeve and threw it over Harry's chair.

She then hopped onto the bed and propped herself up against the headboard. "Come in, we need to get it on," she said.

Harry was eager to comply, perhaps a bit over-eager.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked confused when Harry started to unbutton his shirt.

"Well, we can't do it dressed, can we?"

"Why not?"

"Because it would be in the way?"

"Why? Everything works just fine for me," Hermione asked as she pulled a book out of her bag and opened it in her lap. "See?"

"Are you kidding me?" Harry gasped.

"Oh! Oh!" Hermione gasped as she realized the problem. "We are not doing THAT!" she huffed.

"Wha.. Why.. But... What the heck is going on?" Harry demanded.

"I was just teasing them," Hermione said. "If they won't believe the truth, I can just as well have some fun with them," she explained.

"And so you decided to tease me as well, leaving me with that hope and then suddenly change your mind and tell me it was only a joke once we're alone?" Harry growled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you continue on like that, this might very well be the case. I had considered maybe letting you finally have a peek at them after some studying, but you are loosing points rapidly," she threatened.

"I almost can see them through your shirt, already. Not much in there for me," Harry tried to haggle, even though that offer was already more than he would have hoped for.

"Well, if you're content with that, then I'm fine," Hermione replied, knowing very well that her offer was one he couldn't refuse.

Harry frowned and kicked aside an unaware sock that was just innocently lying around.

"Come," Hermione commanded, and patted the bed next to her, smiling at him.

Harry smirked back. "Only under protest," he replied, mock-frowning.

"So you don't want me to invite you into my bed?" she teased, her lips curling into a amused smile.

Harry opened his mouth a couple of times, but was too tongue-tied to actually find a retort. He finally threw up his hands in surrender and stormed forward, flinging himself onto the bed. Hermione squealed when she was almost catapulted into the air when the mattress bounced back.

Their laughter died down quickly when the door to the bathroom opened, and a confused Neville appeared, wearing only a towel.

_**ooOOoo**_

"It's not what it looks like," Hermione quickly snapped off. "We only hide in here to study in peace, we can't go to the library this late," she tried to explain.

"I would believe that if it weren't for these," Neville replied coolly, extending a finger.

Hermione squeaked as she noticed what Neville was pointing at. She quickly reached out and retrieved her bra.

"Well, it's more comfortable to be without if you're just lounging around," Hermione tried to explain it away with a half-truth. Not knowing what to do with it, she stuffed it under the pillow. "Sorry."

"No problem, I see Ron's undies all over this place, all the time, and they are much less pleasant to look at. I was just surprised." Neville said with a shrug. "And I agree they don't look too comfortable, do they hurt or something?" He asked.

"Well, these are kind of ok, ones with narrow straps might hurt a bit as they cut into your shoulders. To me, they do itch a bit when I'm leaning against something, and they do confine your breath a bit, so I prefer going without when I don't need to, " Hermione explained, completely forgetting the awkwardness once she started discussing a topic.

"I see," Neville replied.

"Could you at least put some pants on if you're discussing my girlfriend's underwear in front of me?" Harry laughed. "It's almost surreal."

"Hey, what shall I say? I stumbled across you two frolicking, sharing a bed, with her underwear strewn all over the room," Neville teased.

"Makes hell of a story if you tell it that way, be sure to use that version," Hermione laughed.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "No worries about the rumors that would cause?" he said as he sat down.

Hermione shrugging her shoulders. "More like me not caring anymore. Talking about not caring - you seem strangely at home in this situation," Hermione asked, gesticulating a bit with her hands at Neville, simply sitting there, making no moves to cover up.

Neville chuckled. "Longbottom here, we are proud of our Norse ancestry. Due to a sauna and Great-uncle Algie's antics, I'm quite used to nudity," he chuckled as he went through to his trunk, looking for clothes. "So this is familiar territory. But I'll be decent in a minute," he promised. "And then I have to finish my Charms essay," he sighed.

"Want to join us?" Hermione offered, helpful as ever.

Neville laughed out loud. "I don't think I'm comfortable with joining you two in your bed, but I'd be happy if you could check it."

_**ooOOoo**_

Neville had barely found a place at one of the study tables before he was under siege.

"So, you scarred for life, now?" Dean joked.

"Why, should I be?" Neville replied, thumbing through his book to find a reference he knew was somewhere in there.

"So you're not upset about them... them... you know," Ron tried to find words, stumbling over his own insecurities.

"Not my business," Neville said, truthfully.

"And, what did they do?" Seamus asked. "Give us some details, man!"

"The only details will be those I'll put into my essay," Neville said, finally having found the page. "If you excuse me, I need to finish this."

With this, he started writing, ignoring them.

_**ooOOoo**_

When Harry later escorted Hermione downstairs, they were greeted by silence. Being used to that treatment, they didn't care, and sat across Neville.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked.

"I survived the inquisition, and am almost done with my essay. Fancy having a look?"

"Of course," Hermione happily replied, readying her quill and red ink.

"You enjoy this entirely too much," Neville grumbled good-naturedly. Harry chuckled in agreement.

"So, Harry, how's your broomstick doing," he asked, trying to pass the time, while Hermione started to eviscerate his work.

None of them noticed the eyes on them.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ummm, Harry," Hermione asked next morning, right after stepping off the stairs into the common room.

"Got it in my bag," Harry replied, patting the same. "But I'm afraid that my roommates found it first. Seems like they felt the need to inspect my bed," he added with a frown.

"Really?"

"Yes. I can smell their paws all over it, seems like Seamus even lay down in my bed where your shampoo was still lingering. And each of them handled your bra," he growled.

"Really? Well, I'll burn it later, then," Hermione said as she went through the portrait hole. Harry huffed with amusement when he heard her mutter about perverts.

Finding their places on the table after a semi-pleasant walk through the awakening castle, Harry immediately knew that there would be nothing good coming from the last night's counter-strike against the "gitty trio".

There were simply too many hastily dropped conversations when they entered the room.

_**ooOOoo**_

Later that day, after class, Harry looked up as he heard familiar, heavy steps approaching their table in the library. Almost out of habit, he quickly swiped his eyes to replace the spell to hide their appearance. The new glamour spells would hold a couple of hours, but better safe than sorry.

"Haari Poter, Hermine Gransher," the thickly accented voice of Victor Krum whispered in greeting as he stepped up and sketched a bow.

"Victor Krum," Harry answered with his own nod, noticing that Victor slightly winced when Harry spoke his name. Hermione pronounced it a bit differently, like "Kroom", which obviously was the right pronunciation. Harry found it amusing that to Krum, their accent was just as thick.

"I am not man off beeg vords, but vant to tell you I respect your dezishion. I don't like to haff tings dezided by ze refferees, but you hat goot reasonz," Krum spoke, before sketching another bow to Hermione.

"Also, I apologize to you for the incidend at ze dance. Our countries seem to have very different sign languages between men and vemen, and I hat no intent to disrespekt you," he apologized formally and wooden, which made Hermione blush brightly.

"No, you don't have to, it was as much my fault, getting you in such a situation," she stammered.

"Maybe, but I like you made public statement defending me. I vas having trouble with ze press at home over dis."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cause you trouble," Hermione cried out.

"Dos not matter, your message shut them up quite vell. I wonder what dey vill come up next wiff - you both know how bad dese vultures can be if dey vant to," Krum replied, waving it off.

Harry had to huff at this. By now, he and Hermione had a good idea how bad it could be, especially for a international sport star. 'Krum assaults schoolgirl' would be quite in the alley of what the Prophet would write.

"Yes, we know," he replied.

Krum smiled back, a little. "One day a hero, next day, dey vant to haff you executed. Always one or the odder, but never dey leave you in peace."

"In my opinion, the people are worse," Harry replied. "I never understood why they think they have the right to write their opinion to people they don't know."

Victor smiled and shook his head. "Haari, dey think dey know you. And all of dem think dey are experts. I get dese letters by de waggon after every match. I sometimes read dem for laughs."

Looking around if someone was watching them, he leaned in to whisper a comment. "Got empty heads and empty lives, so dey seek out to fill dem with something. But I did nod say dis."

Even Hermione could not resist laughing. A sharp hiss from Madame Pince, even though they were alone in here, shut them up to the point of soft giggles.

"Not very nice to speak of your fans like that," Hermione whispered back, fighting giggles as she did so.

Victor grinned back, thawing more and more the longer they talked. "My fans are alright, goot peeple. But dose don't write dese letters, dey just stare at you in public or ask for autograff."

Harry frowned at these words. "I still find it creepy."

"Comes with de job, as dey say. You learn to ignore it. Especially iff you go professional - I haff heard you are goot Seeker! Thinking of it, ve may be competing against each other again, one day," Victor chuckled.

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, and dove back into her book as the conversation became Quidditch-centred.

Harry, on the other hand, had the time of his life, getting very good tips on some advanced manoeuvres and technique, up until Madame Pince chased them out of the library.

_**ooOOoo**_

"How bad can it be?" Hermione asked as they navigated the dungeons towards double Potions. They had been dreading that moment all week long, ever since Snape had returned.

"As long as he doesn't pull a wand on me, it will be better than last time," Harry tried to overplay his own tension with a joke.

Mentioning that didn't do anything to calm Hermione down. But it helped at fuelling her glare at a Ravenclaw third year that was making cow-eyes at Harry as they passed by.

True to his prior prediction, Harry had heard various fragments of rumors that were circulating that week, and caught more than one guy eyeing Hermione. He made a point of not leaving her alone, even though she could handle herself.

Strangely, it seemed as if those kinds of rumors had made him more attractive to the female population, as if he were a prize in a different kind of tournament. Just the other day, some Beauxbatons girl had been remarkably less than subtle with her signals as Harry dutifully stood guard in front of the loo Hermione had excused herself into.

She was lucky to be a coward, for she bailed as soon as Hermione had come into sight. While Hermione always held him back when he was about to see red, Harry wasn't the guy to keep someone from committing excessive violence.

_**ooOOoo**_

When class began, it was very much like it always has been. Snape was almost as arrogant and haughty as before, but he was completely denying Harry's existence. During role call, he skipped directly from Patil to Thomas, only ticking Harry off his list without mentioning him.

It didn't escape Harry that Snape flinched briefly when all over the classroom, the fires were lit, almost as one. Such small motions always caught his attention these days, for some reason. Snape glared briefly at no one in particular, before he turned to yell at Neville.

"Watch it, Longbottom, I won't have you burn down my lab! One point from Gryffindor!" He yelled when Neville's fire flared a bit high during ignition, even though there wasn't any problem with it.

Harry was having trouble with his fire, though. All the while their polishing potion was simmering, his flame occasionally became stronger and weaker. The more he tried to correct the problem, the worse it got. He almost believed that Snape was having a hand in this, but the man was blatantly ignoring their table, and didn't have no wand out.

Hermione seemed to have the same problem, but to a lesser extent.

"Miss Granger! Would you please get your fire to burn constantly? This is first year curriculum, one point from Gryffindor!" Snape suddenly ranted at Hermione, looming over her from behind them.

While Hermione still was staring at him, he suddenly continued. "And while you're at it, teach your bench mate how to do it, as well! Another point from Gryffindor!" He proclaimed, turning his back on them and walked over to harass Neville some more.

Hermione had to place a hand on Harry's arm to keep him from challenging the professor, and started working on his flame. After fiddling without success for a few minutes, she set it to an average height and told Harry to ignore it. Strangely, it worked better that way.

By the end of class, they lost two more points due to fires flaring too much. Harry had waited for Snape to do something blatantly obvious, to call him out on, but his dreams did not come true.

He even found himself hoping that Snape would pull a wand on him, just so he would be able to strike back, but nothing happened.

Ok, Snape did handle Harry's vial for longer than necessary - almost as if he were considering dropping it in order to smash it - before putting it into the rack, but that was the furthest he went.

_**ooOOoo**_

The next morning started quite well. Having the uncertainty of Friday's double Potions behind them and only one week left before leaving for London certainly brightened up the mood. Especially Harry's, he was thrilled about the prospect of spending time with Sirius. Soon, Harry and Hermione found themselves at a somewhat pleasant breakfast.

Halfway through it, Ginny waltzed in, late as usual, and sat down right next to him. This wasn't too unusual, but Harry noticed Hermione's nostrils flaring briefly as even she must have noticed the perfume Ginny was wearing.

She massively overdid it with whatever she did, but it smelled nice. Made Harry think of the burrow, the orchard, Quidditch games, pleasant stuff like this. But underneath the brutal wave of smell, there was something subtle to it, an undertone that would barely register with standard human smell. But it was pleasant, enticing even.

Enticing enough that it rang a warning bell.

When Ginny turned her head to reply to some sixth year next to her, the scent intensified as her hair waved around. Harry earned himself a sour look from Hermione, but he had to comment.

"New shampoo, Ginny?"

"Did you notice?" Ginny almost broke her neck as her head swung around for her to smile back at him. "Mum sent me this new one, claims it would be better. I love the smell!" She said, her smile taking on a somewhat coy note. Harry briefly wondered if she would flutter her lashes at him, next.

"Yes, it's nice. A bit strong, though," Hermione commented, spearing her scrambled eggs a bit fiercer than usual, but holding back remarkably.

Ginny blushed slightly. "Yeah, I'm not quite used to it and overdid it a bit," she confessed. "Anyway, think your broomstick can be repaired? I overheard you talking with Neville the other night," she changed topic, just as Harry spied one of the owls heading straight for him.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I'm not sure whether she or Molly are up to something," Harry commented to Hermione on their way to their hideout to read the letter.

"Huh?"

"Her shampoo, It's laced with something, I think. If she used less, even I might not have picked it up," he said with a frown.

"Laced? With a potion? Might be part of the formula of it, ever-shiny, or something," Hermione rationalized.

"No, it was definitely something that caused attraction. Even though I knew it was there, it was an effort to fight it. Even you were affected."

"Me? How did you come to that conclusion?"

Harry had to chuckle. "Peaches, anyone else who had tried flirting with me so blatantly would have ended up as tiny bits in your ham and eggs!"

"She wasn't!" Hermione tried to defend Ginny, until she suddenly realized that she shouldn't. "Wait! She was! I'm going to shave her hussy head!" She growled, turning around to stalk back.

"Letter now, evisceration later," Harry noted as he pulled her along with him.

_**ooOOoo**_

"What did he write?" Hermione asked while Harry had barely unfolded the letter in their hidden room. Harry needed a few moments to skim the first few paragraphs before he could reply.

"Bad news, he has not yet finished cleaning up the place."

"That bad?"

"To quote him, he considers driving a bulldozer through the house and burning everything that is left," Harry chuckled.

"Is the library safe?" Hermione asked, having her priorities clearly laid out.

"You just lost me a galleon," Harry sighed. ""Sirus bet that'd be the first question you'd ask."

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and huffed. "I can't see anything wrong with that. Anything else?"

"He asks if it's a problem if I'll have to stay at your home right away, until he gets the house in order," Harry continued.

"You'll never be a bother," Hermione said as she pinched his arm. "We'll write them a letter tonight, so that they can plan accordingly. Anything else?"

Harry rolled his eyes as she kept badgering him, but continued his report. "He wants us to stay alert, and that I shouldn't forget that I can do wandless magic undetected outside of Hogwarts. And also, that if it comes to the worst, we shouldn't care about that, anyway."

"As usual, I guess. Oh, I almost can't stand the wait, anymore. Only one more week!" Hermione smiled as she slightly bounced on the balls of her feet. "You will love my parents!"

Harry didn't know that he would hear that quote a couple of times over the next week. To him, it sounded as if Hermione was trying to convince herself as much as him.

_**ooOOoo**_

Three days later, Harry got the answer to the question he had asked after Saturday's breakfast.

"Ginny, you better stop that," he said as he was lounging in the common room, his chosen couch right in front of the fireplace, enjoying the heat.

"What?" Ginny asked, looking like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and not regretting anything.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice you flashing bits of skin at me whenever I'm looking in your direction? All the flirting?"

"Well, I hoped you would notice," Ginny almost purred as she stood from the single seat across the settee arrangement from which she had surreptitiously flashed her legs and cleavage at him ever since Hermione had excused herself to take a shower.

"See something you like?" she said, as she slowly made her way over to him, trying to push out her breasts as much as possible. He wondered if she might have used a spell on her uniform shirt or just borrowed a smaller one. Normally, these did not fit that tightly. She'd also undone the top three buttons, the combination making _them_ look far more impressive than they actually were.

Most of the guys in the room had noticed _them_ by now, but almost all of them were more interested than Harry. Colin was always the odd one out. At least he wasn't trying to take pictures of it.

By now, she had reached him and got into a crouch in front of him, almost as if to chat, but giving him a good view into her cleavage. Harry wasn't even tempted to look.

"I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work," Harry replied as she almost casually flicked her hair, increasing the density of whatever her shampoo contained.

"Huh?" Ginny's face suddenly lost all the seductive qualities as she strained to compute.

"I know that there's something in your shampoo," Harry said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Now Ginny really looked as if she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes were big as saucers. Of course, she quickly recovered.

"I didn't know it would be that obvious. You are the first one who noticed," she complimented. "Anyway, that was just to help you making the right decision. You know how I feel about you."

"Yes. The problem is that I don't feel that way for you," Harry replied.

"Harry, you know that we would be great together. We.." Ginny started, and stopped as Harry had caught her hand, which was about to touch his thigh.

"I am with Hermione. That is not subject to discussion," he said, pushing her arm away.

Ginny used that momentum for a pratfall, pretending to her lose her balance and fall on her bum. Which gave her a perfect opportunity to flash her knickers briefly at him before she 'saved' herself into a proper, almost decent kneeling position.

"I know why, but you can have all that from me, as well. Also, I'm a lot more fun than she is," she said from down there, trying to sound seducing.

Harry was starting to see red.

"Ginny, for the sake of our long friendship - back off. I don't know why you think this would work on me, and I don't care. I don't feel that way towards you and I never will!" he said, staring her straight into the eyes, without wavering.

Ginny's eyes did show a lot of emotions as he continued. None of them were positive.

"If Hermione were here, you would never dare to do this, and I preferred you never did. Even hinting at that I'm only with her for 'that', is insulting and not even remotely true. You know her well enough to know that these rumors are rubbish, and I feel disgusted that you have the gall to bring up all that nonsense with me. Leave now, and if you ever try something like this again, I'll hex you, understood?" Harry threatened, and for a moment, he was afraid the spell on his eyes had failed as Ginny gulped and nodded, almost scrambling to get away from the exposed place at his feet.

Not even looking back, she fled up the staircase, leaving Harry to wonder briefly, before he wiped his eyes, just to be sure, before he continued his book on runes.

People witnessing the scene knew better. There would be much gossip in the days to come about how Potter had brushed off a brazen attempt at mate poaching with a verbal bitch slap and a glare that would have made Voldemort himself back off.

_**ooOOoo**_

Finally, they had survived the last week of classes before the break, and found themselves in the Hogwarts Express on their way to London.

For Harry, it was a new experience in some way. He himself had never had any reason to go home during Easter break, but it seemed that most other students used the break to visit their family.

Still, they easily managed to get a compartment for themselves, as no one wanted to sit with them, anyway.

Especially since Hermione's nerves were so frayed from the upcoming meeting with her parents, that she was snapping about everything.

"Stop flipping through the book!" Hermione finally huffed somewhere near Edinburgh. Harry's head shot up at that, but it took a few moments for Harry to properly register the insult.

"What? I'm reading it," he protested.

"Honestly, Harry - I know the speed you're reading at; this isn't reading, you are just skimming through."

"Am not!" Harry protested as he put down the book.

"Harry," Hermione said in the calm voice someone uses with a petulant child, while pointing at the open book. "These are Nordic runes, you want me to believe you can read this as fast as you read plain English?"

"The love of the maid I may not keep you from winning, you guest so wise, if you can tell me all that now I wish to know of every world," Harry said, his eyes directed at the book.

Hermione had to shake her head to overcome the sudden confusion at his words. "What?"

"That's the verse you're pointing at," he growled at her, a challenging look in his eyes. Hermione's right eyebrow crept higher as she doubted it, but she read the text, nonetheless.

"That can't be true," she stated, quite in awe. Plucking the book from his hands, she shuffled a couple of pages, and pointed at another paragraph. "Read this," she commanded.

"I never have seen more wealth of old wisdom in a single man; but with wicked guile I have betrayed you: The day has caught thee, dwarf - now the sun shines here in the hall," Harry read aloud, as if it were plain text. "And now you've spoiled the story for me," he added with a frown.

"But... How?"

"Dunno. It's just a different alphabet, that's all."

"Harry! This is Old Norse! It's not as if they just wrote English text in different letters - it's a different language! I gave you the basic books just a few weeks ago, and now you are reading advanced poetry!"

Harry gave the book a perplexed glance. "It is? You're right - I never noticed. To me, it felt like an old form of English, with bad grammar and a slightly convoluted structure - how cool is that?" He said with a satisfied grin.

Hermione threw her hands in the air and started pacing in the compartment. Some girls passing by quickened their steps as they saw her ranting at Harry.

"Cool, he says! He never noticed! Bad grammar! Honestly, Harry!" she ranted, punctuating each about-face with a statement, all under Harry's self-satisfied smirk. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at him with an agitated expression.

"I have to introduce you to Aztec runes," she said, and started to rummage in her baggage in the overhead stowage. After only a few moments, she pulled some parchment and a quill out.

Harry cursed his life - though silently- when she sat down and started making a book list that he believed would take him half a year to work through.

_**ooOOoo**_

A good hour later, Harry nudged Hermione as he heard something. "Neville's coming," he told her, not lifting his head from behind the Nordic runes book he was still reading. Hermione replied with a grunt, not putting her book on advanced charms down, neither. It would only look suspicious if they did, and the chapter was too enticing, anyway.

Moments later, someone knocked at the door to the compartment.

"Are you two decent?" Neville joked, pretending to have his eyes pressed shut, firmly.

"Give us five minutes to finish, shower and dress," Hermione replied in a flat, droning voice.

Neville's jaw dropped at Hermione's reply. A moment later, he erupted in a loud, deep belly laugh that no one would have expected of him. It was infectious, though.

While still laughing softly, Neville slid into the compartment and found a place opposite them.

"Now that's elitism. Hogging your own compartment," he said as he stretched out. "Much better than cattle class."

"It's a hard life," Harry replied with a grin. It was good to see Neville. That boy didn't have a false bone in his body. It was refreshing knowing exactly where you stood with someone.

"Upper class problems," Neville agreed. "But still better than where I fled from. Ginny is still in a bad mood because you brushed her off, Dean is trying to make a move on her, and Ron is mad because of both events. Charming atmosphere, I tell you. I wouldn't wonder if you'd have to rinse one of them out of the carpet when we arrive."

Hermione almost growled when he mentioned her other former friend.

"Still miffed?" Neville foolishly inquired.

"Why shouldn't I be? She only went behind my back and used love potion, breasts and even spread legs to try and seduce my boyfriend," Hermione hissed dangerously.

Harry smirked slightly as he remembered the scenes that followed that incident.

He had thought a long time whether to tell Hermione or not. In the end, he had informed her the next day, after class. Hermione had taken it rather well, considering everything. In the end, the prefects had to intervene and had to drag Hermione out of the room to end the screaming match that was set off the moment Hermione stormed up the staircase to Ginny's dorm. But Ginny was still in one piece, not bodily harmed or in any other way mutilated. Hermione was warned to stay at least 40 feet away from Ginny.

They later extended a similar warning to Ginny, pertaining to Hermione and Harry, both. That warning was delivered much more quietly, but with almost equal ferocity. Even though Harry's and Hermione's social status wasn't the best, poaching within Gryffindor house was still frowned upon.

"Not to forget insulting me in public by claiming that Harry's only with me because I'm a slut that shags him, which we're not even close to doing, at all!" Hermione still ranted when Harry returned to the present moment..

Neville raised both hands in defense. "Ok, ok, I get it. Just don't hurt me."

"I should have hurt her!" Hermione hissed.

"What has become of taking the high road?" Harry asked, amused.

"I'm starting to believe that vengeful Hermione is the way to go. I came across an interesting spell to write words in hard to remove pimples on someone's skin," Hermione replied.

"By accident, I presume," Neville joked. He shut up quickly when Hermione smirked at him in a truly sinister way. "Damn, you're one scary bird, Hermione."

"I thought you found that out the hard way, back in first year," Harry joked to defuse the situation. It worked, Hermione almost instantly blushed as he brought it up.

"Oh yes," Neville laughed. "Man, thinking back, that was quite a story, wasn't it. I still don't know what possessed me to think I could pull that off," he laughed.

"I think your inner Gryffindor started to show," Hermione replied.

"That's a nice way to say I was being stupid," Neville laughed. Harry and Hermione also laughed along, for the first time truly relaxing around someone.

_**AN:**_

Embi was doing her usual "scare the minions to death" inspection runs around the new base, when she suddenly stumbled over some huge wire that someone had laid through the hallway. Well, not exactly someone, she had a very distinct idea who would be so insane to run a huge-ass wire up to the observation tower during a lightning storm.

Especially since it seemed to only be isolated by a single wrap of electric tape. The charred body of one minion, the foot still welded onto the wire he stepped on, was testament to this.

Seriously considering her options, curiosity won out, again. One day, it would cost her another one of her lives...

Following the cable, and keeping a good distance to it, she descended down into the Dark Lord Cliffy's personal domain.

Stopping before the half-open door, she felt a tickle of static behind her, fractions of a second before the cable suddenly glowed white-hot as the current of a lightning bold rushed through it, into the lab.

The resulting insane cackling of "It's alive! It's alive!" made her reconsider her prior decision, feeling that checking up on her zombie survival kit for completeness should be the new top priority on her list.

_**ooOOoo**_

Ooops, I seem to have woken a sleeping dragon... :D

Thanks to Embi and Alix for their help in sorting this mess out. :D


	11. Encounters of the third degree

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 10: Encounters of the third degree.**

Finally, Harry and Hermione stepped through the wall into the Muggle part of King's Cross station.

"Mum! DAD!" Hermione shouted out as soon as she made out their shapes in the crowd.

Harry followed her at a more leisurely pace, carrying Hedwig, which sat contently in her cage - and Crookshanks, who was grumbling in his box. Arriving at the group hug, he waited for them to untangle, before extending his hand.

"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Madam, Sir," he said, a bit stiff.

"If that isn't one of the few boys in our daughter's all-girl school," her father joked, before his wife gave him a quite familiar glare. She just asserted more authority than Hermione, probably from years of practice.

"Margret Jean Granger, also tickled to meet you. That bad joke...er is my husband, Henry Granger, junior," she said as she shook Harry's hand.

"Nice to meet you, son. Sure you still want to date my daughter? She's like her mother. One bad quip, and you get both barrels."

"DAD!"

"Stop embarrassing her," Margret said as she slapped her husband's arm. "Leave a bit for later, I've been digging out baby pictures for days," she added with a smirk.

"MOM!"

"Didn't you tell us we could tease you as much as we want if you would ever have something as icky as a boyfriend?" Margret asked, innocently.

Hermione rolled her eyes in a very spectacular way. "I was eight!" She protested, knowing it was futile.

"And had hoped we wouldn't take you up on your offer," Henry chuckled, before clapping his hands together. "Let's go, we can share more funny stories in the car."

After a few steps, they stopped, as they noticed that Hermione wasn't following. Turning to look for her, they noticed she hadn't moved, yet.

"You coming?"

"Still considering waiting in the train until it leaves again," Hermione dead-panned. Her parents were actually gaping at her when she made that comment, but that moment lingered only a bit before Hermione beamed a brilliant smile at them and rushed to catch up.

_**ooOOoo**_

The drive was pleasant, with Harry just listening while Hermione was getting brought up to speed on relatives, while small questions about school were asked and answered. Harry noticed that Hermione was painstakingly taking care not to reveal too much, so he tried to resort to short answers, lest he spoiled her efforts.

Somehow, they managed to make it to the big house in the London outer districts - Harry had no idea where they ended up - without running aground with one of the riskier topics. Harry waited but a moment to free Hedwig, who immediately took wing, soaring above the house in big circles, mapping the surroundings.

"A beautiful bird," Margret commented, standing next to Harry, watching Hedwig circling.

"Indeed. And one of my best friends. There was a time I had no one but her," Harry spoke softly as he watched Hedwig doing lazy eight patterns in various directions.

Crookshanks was less graceful as he simply walked into the house, not dignifying anyone with a look over the insulting travel in his carrier box.

Harry felt at home in this house, right from the first moment he stepped in. It had a certain warm feeling that the Dursley house lacked. It was neat, clean and very stylish, but there was a newspaper on the table, a mug standing in the sink, a cardigan thrown over the couch. Small things that made it alive.

His serene contemplation ended as soon as they stepped inside the living room, where Marget unceremoniously opened the can of worms they'd been avoiding all the time.

"Now that we are at home, would you tell us what secret you are trying to keep? You don't need to be an expert to see you two are holding back with something. And if that thing is important, I'd prefer to know right away," she said.

"Mum, dad, could we sit down for a moment?" Hermione awkwardly said. Henry and Margret complied, but not without exchanging a concerned look.

"Mum, dad, we... I mean, Harry..." Hermione rambled, not really finding a way to start.

"Did you two get into trouble at school?" Margret asked carefully.

"No, mum, not that."

"With the law, then?" Henry asked, his voice kind of hopeful, which confused Harry a bit, causing a slight frown to emerge.

"Of course not, dad!" Hermione shot him down, quite flustered, but already staring in shock at her mother.

"So you're doing drugs?" Margret had asked. Harry's frown dropped as quickly as his head swung around to stare at her in disbelief.

"Mum!"

"Are you?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione all but yelled, while Harry started to resemble a spectator at a tennis match, his head swivelling like a flag in the wind as he followed that quarrel.

Henry and Margret exchanged another long look, before Henry sighed.

"Shit. That means she's pregnant."

"DAD!"

At this point, the talk was interrupted by Harry breaking down with laughter.

"HARRY!" Hermione shouted, quite embarrassed, still.

"Sorry," Harry said after taking a few deep breaths to calm down. "But as a former friend once said about Hermione, you need to get your priorities straight," he told her parents.

"From our perspective, all the other things could be helped with," Margret said with a shrug. "But if she were a couple of months along..."

"MUM!"

"Hush, pumpkin," Margret replied in reflex. "Former friend? Ron?" she asked Harry.

"Well, that explains why Hermione hadn't mentioned him in letters for months," Margret continued after Harry's face hardened just as fast as Hermione's did.

"He came down with a serious case of git," Harry replied, his face a hard mask.

"That happens quite often," Henry agreed. "So, what's the problem you wanted to tell us about?"

"That's a long story," Harry said, huffing slightly and scratching his back.

"We've got a couple of days," Henry replied. "Give us the outline, we can elaborate later, ok?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed. "You know that I'm kind of famous, right?"

"Hermione gave us the story, yes," Henry replied with a faint smirk.

"Our condolences, by the way," Margret noted.

"You know about the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Hermione wrote us about it, and that you were forced to compete," Margret replied.

"She was a great help, training with me for the tasks, and we..." Harry tried to find the right words.

"Fell for each other?" Margret helped him out.

"That sounds just like it," Harry agreed, smiling softly at Hermione, who replied in kind.

"And he disagreed?" Henry inquired?

"Among other things," Harry agreed.

Hermione sat up straighter. "Like not believing Harry that he didn't cheat himself into the tournament, thinking that I also had something going on with Victor Krum, at the same time," she counted off her finger.

"A sport star who Ron was a fan of, and who invited Hermione to the Yule Ball in school," Harry quickly explained, preempting the obvious question.

"And then he spat on me and tried to hit me for being a slut," Hermione dropped the bomb, fuming visibly.

"He did what?" Henry asked coldly, leaning forward.

"He spat at her, and tried to hit her, but then he suddenly flew across the room, instead, when I got him first," Harry said, a fraction colder. Henry turned to face him, letting his gaze run up and down the boy, before giving him a short nod.

"That's not the whole story, right?" Margret inquired, frowning slightly.

"We've been fighting rumors ever since. You see, as I pointed out, I'm kind of famous, and gossips and their queen, a reporter," Harry explained, at this point getting interrupted by a spiteful snort from Hermione.

"A reporter called Rita Skeeter. She loves writing outrageous crap, excuse my wording, and currently, I'm target number one or two. That index changes depending on how much she guns for Hermione," he finished.

"That bad?" Margret asked. When Hermione only nodded sadly, she reached out and put a supporting hand on her knee.

"Did you try suing her? Libel, perhaps?"

"No such laws," Hermione replied. "And trust me, I looked everywhere."

"Honestly," Henry huffed. "So you had to deal with that crap on top of that tournament? Like, honestly!"

Suddenly, he looked straight at Harry. "How is the tournament going, by the way?" He inquired. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see both female Grangers shake their heads.

"Long story."

"Well, give me a summary, then."

"Where to start... Ok, I got injured in the first of the tasks, and Hermione had been participating in the second, without her consent, as they needed a fake hostage and didn't want these hostages to tell the competitors something. Long story short, the people weren't up to date and used Ron for my hostage, and Hermione for Krum. When I rescued Hermione, instead, I actually broke the rules and used that to get myself disqualified," Harry told the compact version that left out most of the bad things.

Henry and Margret needed a moment to compute that data dump.

"Ok, let's break this down. You got hurt in the tournament?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Bad?"

"Well, that," Harry fidgeted, before sighing.

"Any permanent injuries?" Henry queried carefully.

Harry hesitated for a second, before looking at Hermione.

"Peaches, they are your family, and I don't want to keep this facade up around them, all the time. Sirius knows, and I think they have the same right, don't you think?" he said.

Henry leaned a bit back as Harry spoke, not sure what to make of this, while Hermione whispered something, so low that he could not hear it. Harry nodded in reply, though.

"You are her family, you need to know the truth," Harry said, looking straight at them, while Hermione still didn't look up. "I got injured by a dragon, and for some reason nobody can make sense of, I somehow... How to put it..." Harry said, looking for words. Hermione whispered something, again far too low to be made out, but Harry nodded as she did so.

"That's the word, thank you. I somehow absorbed the essence of a dragon. I am now faster, stronger, and I have superhuman sense of sight, smell and hearing."

"Superhuman?" Henry said, with an eyebrow rising in doubt.

"I was blind as a bat, but now these glasses are fake. I can read the signature of the artist on that painting over there," he said, pointing at a picture of a blue dog in the far corner of the living room.

"And one more thing," he said with finality, before he almost casually swiped his hand over his face.

Margret let loose a sharp shriek as Harry's eyes suddenly changed into their real appearance. When Hermione gave her a disapproving look for that, she almost blushed. "Sorry," she stuttered. "I'm scared of snakes, and you surprised me. This is a trick, isn't it?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I use a spell to conceal it, because I'm afraid of people's reaction. I already have bad enough press, anyway," Harry replied evenly. In fact her reaction was much less than he had expected.

"Is this like Hermione turning into a cat?" Henry asked, implicitly giving Harry an explanation for their restraint.

"I don't know. As far as we know, no one knows what it is. But it seems to be permanent."

"And people would give you a bad time for it? I find that hard to believe," Margret interrupted them.

"You don't know half of it, the gossips love to tear him apart whenever they get a chance, no matter how ridiculous the rumors are. They would pounce on it!" Hermione huffed.

Henry and Margret exchanged another look, and Margret gave Henry a 'go ahead' kind of nod.

"Come on, Harry, let's have a little talk among us guys, and leave the ladies to their topics," Henry said and left, secure in the knowledge that Harry would follow.

_**ooOOoo**_

He led the boy upstairs into what looked like an office, and turned around to face Harry, who was looking around in awe at the many trophies lining the shelves.

"Impressive, isn't it? I like to keep them here in my home-office. Those are only club championships," he said, waving in the direction of a shelf full of cups. "But look here - regional Skeet Champion 89', 91', 92', 93', and then this year's…" he said while pointing at one shelf, before singling out a bigger one.

"That one is actually my favourite. Sporting Clays champion 94'. It doesn't get much better than that," he said, with an absent look and a smile. Taking a closer look, Harry noticed the figures on top of some of the trophies were holding guns, and had his eyes widen in recognition for a second as he came to realize what 'Skeet' and 'Clays' meant.

Seemingly not noticing that, Henry continued the tour, and came to a massive closet, which swung open to reveal a steel door. Producing a key, Henry opened it and let Harry have a look into. "Aren't they beautiful?" he crooned, patting one of the guns, an over-under configuration gun - not that Harry could identify it as that, his knowledge was limited to 'shotgun' - with silver inlays in the dark brown wood of the shaft.

Locking the gun safe again, Henry continued to show Harry around, pointing out some pictures, depicting him at the shooting range, most of them showing him hitting targets at ridiculous distances.

Finally, Henry's tour came to an end and he settled into the stuffed office chair behind his desk, indicating Harry to take a seat at the settee under the window. "Now, Harry, where was I, "he asked into the room. "Ah, yes, I remember. Now, Harry, I was told that you are dating my daughter…"

_**ooOOoo**_

When Harry had been lead into her dad's study, Hermione had been nervous, but stayed with her mother.

"Ok, Honey. What kind of rumors are that?" her mother asked as soon as the men were out of sight. "You are said to be a slut who spreads her legs for Harry, and that's the only reason you landed him, isn't it?" she continued, not even waiting for Hermione to answer.

"In a nutshell," Hermione replied, slightly put up with how her mother worded it. "How did you know?"

"Isn't it always like that? Famous guy, probably rich, and a girl from outside. The tabloids are full of stories like that, and it's always the same. She must be a slut, or what else could make her better than me?" Margret said. "Had the same problem with Henry's friends, at first. The fact that I was also studying medicine and had better grades was irrelevant, they only complained about why he didn't choose one of the girls in their group."

Hermione looked quite surprised at that confession. "I never knew!"

"Nothing I would put on a banner, dear. My question is simple, are these rumors based on fact?"

Hermione could not have been more surprised if her mother had slapped her across the face.

"What? No! Of course not!" She protested.

"Good. But you two are taking steps in that directions, aren't you?"

"I.. We... I don't think we should be discussing this," Hermione stammered.

"Well, I do," her mother continued. "Your father and I, we knew that this situation would arise some time, since you are on your own at school, and surrounded by boys your age. We rather you'd not, but we know how teenagers are, and would feel better if you'd had all the tools to be able to protect yourself. Therefore, I've taken the liberty to arrange for a check-up visit for the middle of this week," she told Hermione, giving her a questioning look.

Hermione didn't really understand what exactly she was hinting at. "What do you mean? How is this relevant to... OH!" she gasped as the pieces fell into place.

"Henry and I discussed that topic ever since we learned that you were dating Harry, and we agreed that if you want, Doctor Smitson could prescribe you the pill. Now, do you want me to call him and cancel that appointment?"

Hermione was looking like a fish on land for almost a minute, before she blushed scarlet red, and shook her head.

_**ooOOoo**_

After the hard topic was out of the way, Hermione and Margret spend some time chatting about the school year and the family news she had been told. She felt anxious after fifteen minutes had passed, but reasoned that Harry had to endure this, and everything would be fine. But after very long thirty minutes had passed, she couldn't sit anymore and stood to have a look for and maybe rescue her boyfriend, her mother in tow.

Crossing the living room navigating the hallway and the stairs to her dad's office, she was already sure that she would encounter them in a shouting match or in a fight for their life, locked in a deadly embrace. While she knew that wasn't rational, she couldn't help thinking so. She was very relieved, but also extremely surprised when she arrived at the door and heard laughter coming out of the room. A quick look told her that her mother was no less surprised than she was.

Opening the door, she found her dad slumped in his chair, holding his belly as Harry told him about something.

"It's going to hear me?" Harry said in a Ron-like, but unnaturally high voice. "It's already heard Fang!" he whined, and both were once more shaken by bouts of laughter.

"We've got company," Henry suddenly said and tried to sober up quickly, failing spectacularly with repeated short laughs that shook his body. Hermione was not amused, and chose to express her feelings.

"Honestly, Harry! I was sitting down there and thinking Dad is going to scare you into running, and you both sit here and laugh about some story? What was it about, anyway?"

"Sorry, Pe-Hermione, it was about Ron and me visiting the Acromantulas," a contrite, but chuckling Harry said, to which Hermione had to grin.

"You have to tell me this story, too. I 'd love to hear about that," she said with a smirk as she tried to imagine Ron in the vicinity of giant spiders.

"And to be fair, I did try to intimidate Harry, but I failed badly," her father remarked, having finally found his composure. "What did you say, again, son?"

"I believe it was _'I fought psycho killers, a dragon, swarms of dog-sized spiders, Soul-Eater Demons and a Basilisk. Sorry, you just don't play in that league'_, or something along the lines," Harry smirked, which pushed Henry over the edge, again, and even Margret and Hermione couldn't suppress their snorts of laughter.

"By the way, it would have been nice to have been warned about... this..." Harry told Hermione, gesticulating at the trophies and the gun locker.

"Yeah, right. I should tell my boyfriend that my dad is a gun aficionado with a huge collection, and lots of trophies proving that he can hit birds in flight. Good plan. Can't see anything wrong with it," Hermione dead-panned. "Honestly, Harry," she huffed.

Harry couldn't really dispute that point.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Okay, now that you have passed Henry's gauntlet, I have some rules for you both, alright?" Margret told the kids in a no-nonsense way.

"First, it's okay for you to be affectionate, but I don't want to see you slobbering all over each other, or any hands wandering, especially under clothing," she started counting off on her fingers, and smirking at the teens staring at her, eyes wide. She didn't really like the blush forming on her daughter's face, but then, she knew that Hermione was a responsible girl. Maybe she should have a repeat of a certain talk with her, just to be sure.

"Second, if I ever find you both alone in a room with the door closed - or worse, locked - Harry is out, instantly, comprende?" she stated, and Hermione and Harry nodded their agreement, blushing brightly.

"That said, welcome to our house, Harry," Margret said as she embraced the highly embarrassed boy in a hug.

_**ooOOoo**_

Over dinner, which consisted of a marvellous stew that was an old family recipe, Margret had a proposal for Harry.

"You know, I have a very good friend who has a medical laboratory," she began, to which Hermione squealed, "Aunt Sophie?"

"Yes, she is a very good doctor and she might be able to help you with your problem, Harry. If there is anything out of order with you, she will know. All she needs are some samples of your blood, which I could take and give to her when I drive by her lab on the way to work on Monday, and bring you the results back on Tuesday evening."

"Is that very expensive? I only have a couple thousand Galleons in my vault, and I don't know how much a doctor charges," Harry faltered.

Before Hermione could reassure him, Margret did. "Thousands of Galleons? Wow. Given the conversion rate, that's a lot. You could probably buy her lab for that," she joked.

"But that's only my school vault," Harry tried to fight her off, causing Henry to laugh loudly at that.

"You know, that makes me kind of glad that I didn't ask him if he could support a family. That would have been embarrassing if I mortified him with that question only to have him come back with having more allowance than I have life savings!" He said between snorts of laughter.

The rest of the meal went along amiably, and Harry agreed to the testing, and to inquiring at Gringotts about how much he really owned.

He was then treated to a nice evening of TV and games, with Harry recounting some stories about Hogwarts. Close to midnight, they finally retired for the evening.

_**ooOOoo**_

Next morning, Harry's resolve to his earlier decision wavered slightly when Margret fetched some tubes and needles from her office to drain the blood needed.

After barely surviving that procedure, Harry was patched up by Margret. "Really Harry, after all the stuff you told us, I'd never expected you to be such a baby about this," she said as she put a band-aid over the wad he pressed into the crook of his elbow as if his life depended on it.

"Needles are scary," Harry defended his behaviour, only resulting in Margret shaking her head.

"Men!" she huffed, smiling as her husband answered that remark with an angry "OY!"

"Anyway, I'll drop this off at Sophie's on the way to the practice. Sorry, but with the sudden change of plans, we will need to shuffle things around for the next two days, but then we are all yours, ok?"

"Sorry to be a bother, Madam," Harry apologized, scratching his right shoulder blade.

Margret waved him off. "Stop being silly. You're no bother, at all. We just hadn't planned to have you around for a couple of days, yet."

"Just promise me to behave while we are away, all right?" she said as she kissed her daughter on the head.

"Yes mum, no fooling around in the house, I promise," Hermione replied dutifully, but smiling at her mother.

Satisfied, the adults left. No sooner than the door hit the latch, Harry turned to his girlfriend with a smirk and closed in to kiss her. His smile fell prey to a shocked expression when she blocked his attempt by pulling away.

"I promised," she said, meekly.

"B… but…" Harry stuttered, not really sure what to make of that. His confusion grew as she started to rummage in the cupboard.

"Ever the loquacious, aren't you," Hermione teased as she threw one of her dad's jackets at him while fighting with a coat of her own. "We spent so much time around Dumbledore, haven't you learned anything, yet?"

At Harry's dumb look, she broke into bright laughter as she put on her coat and pulled Harry towards the door. "It's the exact wording that counts!"

They spent the day with Hermione eagerly showing Harry around her home area, along with her favourite places to read in the open. Their secluded character made them also rather suitable for snogging, coincidentally.

_**ooOOoo**_

Early morning the next day, the doorbell rang during breakfast.

"The post is definitely early today," Margret said as she pushed back from the table.

Hermione shot Harry a hectic glance, without saying something. She didn't have to, her sudden change of smell was all Harry needed to know.

"I better come with you, just to be safe."

"Why?"

"There are elements of society that would love to hurt Harry. That's why they entered him into that tournament, remember," Hermione stammered.

"Oh, yes. I forgot," Henry laughed. "But I doubt they would know where to look for him," he added.

"Better safe than sorry?" Harry said, stepping towards the living room where he could have a look out of the window, towards the entrance.

"There's a woman out there, five foot and a half-ish, slender, long black hair in a pony tail, blue eyes, brown coat, holding a couple of papers," he said.

"That sounds like Aunt Sophie," Hermione said.

"She's looking quite sternly. I'll take position here, just in case there are some invisibles out there, but it seems fine," Harry replied.

"Honestly, kids, aren't you taking this too serious? It's just Sophie!" Margret huffed, and went to open that door.

She had to take a step backwards when the door opened to reveal her irate best friend, Dr. Sophie Ann Wilson.

"What the hell are you thinking? I had these expensive tests made for you, and then it was just a prank? April first is over, Gretty!" she yelled at Margret, her face meanwhile turning completely scarlet with anger!

"You will pay me every single penny I spent doing that stuff for you - full rate! I was laughed at by the whole team, all day! Did you like making me look like a stupid bimbo bint in front of all my staff? I am so royally pissed! I even took my time to get up early today to drive out here to rip you a new one in person!" she screeched.

"But…" Margret tried to get an answer in, but couldn't get a word in edgewise as the irate woman shoved her in and slammed the door shut behind her.

"It was a good one, sure! That much I give you! At first, I did a full screening, which showed nothing out of order, except for the slightly higher potassium level," she yelled, slamming a bunch of papers on the small desk with the telephone on it. Margret and the others, who had joined them as soon as the shouting had started, jumped in surprise as she did so.

"Then, I thought I'd do you a favour and did the full genetic screening, which is expensive as hell and had shown no hereditary diseases. But when I took the prints out, they looked like that!" she hissed, holding a paper with some printed lines to Margret's face.

Confused, Margret took it and started looking at it. At first, it was only a couple of strange blotches, but then she realized it was a karyogram. At first glance, it looked familiar to the ones she had seen during studying, but then she grew confused. There were much more markings that expected - it showed twelve extra, blurry chromosome pairs after the Y, and then some more blurry spots.

"Numeric chromosome aberration? An extreme case of XYY?"

"What? No! In that case, it would be duplicates of normal chromosomes - these are completely different ones! What kind of joke is that? What the hell did you get this blood from?" Sophie yelled at the cringing Margret.

"That would be me," Harry told her calmly as he had stepped closer. Sophie turned to yell at him, but her voice failed her as she looked at his eyes. For a few seconds, Sophie stared into the eyes of the boy, before she did the sensible thing. She fainted.

_**AN:**_

The Dark Lord Cliffy rubbed his hands as he cackled with glee.

Too lenient...

Not as cruel as he had been...

Now that will teach them!

_**OoOOoo**_

Again, I'm deeply indebted to the girls who make this story readable - alix33 and embirsephonelilathia. Thank you!

I've been told that my Hermione here is a 'bit more bossy', to use lighter terms. Well, that's intentional. I have slightly tweaked the characters of many people in order to make this story happen.

Hermione - I tweaked her to be more ruthless in doing what she thinks is right. (Mini Sheldon Cooper, so to speak.) She was like that in the first two years, I just didn't let her mellow as much as she did in canon.

Neville is more at ease with himself after the ball than in canon (To be honest, he was one of the few Gryfs in his year who managed to ask a pretty girl out. Other than Harry and Ron. So I guess he had it in him for a long time.)

For the Weasleys, I only had to slightly increase some of their obvious traits.


	12. Science, bitches!

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

Chapter 11: Science, bitches!

"Boy, did anybody get the number of that lorry?" Sophie groaned as she returned to the land of the living. Blinking, she noticed herself lying on a couch, and Margret was hovering over her, holding something cool to her temple. Awareness gave way to acute awareness as the pain in said temple registered. She could feel a huge lump throbbing there.

"What happened? I remember yelling at you, and then there was this boy with the strange eyes?" she asked in confusion, trying to sit up.

"That was Harry, Hermione's boyfriend! He's waiting outside with Henry and Hermione," Margret softly said, looking at her friend in concern.

"Oh no, Hermione is here? Did she hear me yelling at you?" Sophie gasped. "I'm sorry, Gretty, I didn't want that. I was just so mad that you pranked me like that."

"It's OK, and I didn't prank you, I swear," Margret told her while grabbing her hand. "This really is Harry's blood."

"But…"

"I know that's hard to understand, but there is something else I need to tell you, first," Margret said. "We have a big secret I had to keep from you. The school Hermione goes to is not a private school for especially gifted. Well, in some way, it is. It's a school for magic. Hermione is a witch."

Sophie's eyes narrowed dangerously as she shook her hand free. "I'm not in the mood for bullshit, Gret. Stop that!"

Sighing, Margret called out for the others to enter.

"Did she believe you?" Hermione asked as soon as she had stepped in.

"No, honey, she didn't. A shame you can't just show her something," Margret sighed while she stood up and walked over to them..

"I could!" Harry said. "It's not my home, and I can do wandless magic. The sensors would never pick up on that, Sirius said," he assured them.

"You wouldn't get in trouble?"

"No, it should be ok. If you like, I can give her a show."

When Hermione shot him a thankful smile and Margret gave him a 'go ahead' nod, Harry slowly stepped around the couch and sat in the chair Margret had just vacated.

"Hello, I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he said while he sat down, slowly, extending a hand for a shake.

Gingerly, his hand was taken. "I'm Doctor Sophie Alistair; nice to meet you. Are those contact lenses?"

"No, there was an accident at Hogwarts, and I ended up with them," Harry chuckled.

"Hog-what?"

"Hogwarts, the school of Wizardry and Witchcraft that Hermione and I attend."

"Young man, I am not taking any bull stories from you, neither," Sophie snarled as she sat up straight, glaring at him.

"Will you allow me to prove it?" Harry asked and extended his hand towards the lump on her head.

"I won't hurt you," he said as she leaned away a bit. Sophie sighed and rolled her eyes, but she leaned forward, again, smirking at him.

"_Crassitudo medeo,"_ he said with a wave of his hand, touching the place where the bump was at the end of that motion. Sophie shrieked and jumped away from Harry as her forehead started itching. Yet, she could feel the lump quickly receding until it was completely gone. With a brief touch to the spot, she confirmed the confusing sensation.

"Stay away from me! What are you? An Alien?" she shrieked as she curled herself up in the corner of the couch. Harry had to take a deep breath to continue in spite of her reaction.

"I am Harry Potter, of Surrey, and I am human. But I can do magic, like Hermione does," Harry replied evenly. While her words were hurting him, he could understand the woman completely. If he were in her situation, he would have reacted the same way. No, he would probably already be out of the door, heading for Brazil or thereabouts.

Sophie turned her head to Hermione. "Girl, is that right? You can also wave your hand and heal by just saying 'I heal your whatever' in Latin?" she asked, desperately craving for a solution for the impossible things that just happened.

She knew that Hermione won't lie to her - as far as she knew, the girl had never done so in her whole life, not even when still a preschooler. Her heart dropped as she saw the girl fidget.

"To be precise, Aunt Sophie, I have to use a magic wand for that. I can't do it with my hand like Harry."

"Show me!" Sophie growled at her.

"I am not allowed to use my wand while still in school. I don't have my license, yet. Only the fact that Harry is not home and doesn't need a wand allows him to do so. But I can show you my wand," Hermione said, and pulled her wand out of the pocket in her sleeve, presenting it to her aunt.

Sophie eyed it warily before she turned to look at Harry. "You got one, too?"

With a nod, Harry retrieved his wand from his sleeve pocket - Hermione had shown him how to transfigure those into his long sleeved shirts - and held it out for Sophie to see, as well.

"May I hold it?" She asked, surprising him with that request.

With only a slight hesitation, Harry flipped it in his hand and handed it over. Sophie looked at it, noticing at once that it wasn't some decoration piece. It was worn and slightly gritty, indicating it was held in hand quite often. Itching to try it, she aimed it at a chair and said "Abra Kadabra!" To her surprise, nothing happened, except for Hermione and especially Harry flinching at her words.

"What?"

"Sorry, Aunt Sophie," Hermione said, "but the words you said are very similar to a vile and lethal curse. Harry's parents were killed by it," she said as she went over to hug Harry.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know," Sophie said, and gingerly returned the wand to Harry, wisely turning it to hand it over handle first. She had been on the range a few times with Henry and Margret, and he had taught her about gun safety. Since this wand could be lethal, she thought it was only appropriate to treat it like one.

"You couldn't," Harry said as he took the wand with two fingers and put it back into his sleeve.

"After what you told me I'm glad I didn't point it at anyone, and even more that it didn't work," Sophie said ruefully.

"It wouldn't have. Only a wizard or witch can use a wand. Magic has to be in you, and you would have been found if you were one of us," Hermione told her with a smile.

Sophie turned to the elder Grangers. "And you two?"

"Normal, plain and simple," Margret smiled at her oldest friend. "Hermione is a quirk of genetics, a first generation witch."

"I knew we were of good breed, but to see what our combination turns out to be has surprised me as well," Henry quipped. Three pairs of female eyes rolled simultaneously.

"So there are wizards in Britain? Cool, but why don't we hear about that?" Sophie addressed the kids again after chucking at Henry's antics. He never could leave a joke unspoken.

"We live in hidden places, since there is the danger that the public would react badly if they knew about us. Remember the witch hunts during the Renaissance? That was the last time we tried to mingle, and ever since then, it is against the law to expose magic. In fact, we are breaking this law just by telling you, so it's important that you keep this secret. If not, they will take all your memories about this from you, and we will get punished quite severely," Hermione explained to her favourite aunt.

"I'm glad I don't have to hide this from you anymore, Aunt Sophie," she added with a smile.

"What else can you do?" Sophie asked, while Margret and Henry moved to sit next to her on the couch. Hermione settled for the armrest of Harry's armchair.

Seeing the eager faces, Harry pulled off a brief show of levitating the couch, transfiguring a vase into a turtle and back, before filling the vase with an _aquamenti_ charm and then putting a huge bouquet of flowers into it with the _orchideus_ spell. He ended the show by lighting the fireplace with a very impressive _incendio_. Of course, he always remarked that Hermione could do this better and much more than he did, he just had this little extra talent.

"Impressive," Sophie said while clapping along with the Grangers.

"You said you had an accident lately and this caused your strange eyes, as I remember," Sophie said, getting a nod in reply. "What exactly was this accident?"

"Oh, you will certainly like that," Hermione laughed as she made herself comfortable on Harry's shoulder. "It began with Harry being chosen to participate in a tournament…"

_**ooOOoo **_

"Just to get this straight, you were nearly killed by a bloody dragon, and then you had to dive into a Scottish Loch in spring to rescue a hostage?"

Harry and Hermione had to laugh at the baffled faces of the grown-ups. There was a very heartfelt moment when Margret had come over to hug Harry after they told them how Harry had rescued her from the lake and defended her against others, but most of the time, they were just listening in awe at the things they were told.

"You know what they say about being powerful, Harry" Sophie quipped at him.

Harry thought for a moment. "It corrupts?"

"No, not that," she waved him off. "They say it's like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't," she quoted her idol, smirking knowingly at him.

"I'm nothing special," Harry protested. "For a wizard," he added sheepishly, scratching his back.

"Harry, I saw Hermione's reaction to the things you told us. It didn't look as if she thought she could have done it. No offence, Hermione."

"None taken, Aunt Sophie," Hermione replied. "Ignore Harry - he just can't deal with the fact that he is something special."

"I am nothing special!" Harry insisted. "Apart from being a mediocre wizard, I'm just a normal boy!"

"Well, I don't know about wizards, but from what I know, you are certainly not just a normal boy. A human has 23 chromosome pairs, not 35," Sophie replied with a smirk, but her joke missed his target entirely.

"You mean I'm not human?" Harry said shakily, swallowing hard.

Hermione sat up and spun to face him, frowning fiercely.

"You are human, Harry Potter," she said firmly, grabbing his head like you would a dog's to get his undivided attention. "You are just sick, and we will get to the bottom of that, understood?" She insisted.

"So your eyes have changed after that incident? Anything else? Nausea, Vertigo?" Sophie chose to carry on in spite of the awkwardness.

"Well, I do get nauseous occasionally because of my roommate's hygienic preferences, and the whispers of people three rooms away can cause headache," Harry huffed, still wallowing in his misery.

"I beg your pardon?" Sophie said as she couldn't make sense of any of this.

"Harry had quite a few changes, heightened senses and increased strength, just to name some," Hermione clarified in his stead.

"Okay, kids - I want both of you with me in the lab, right now, and I'll check you both over. I need you for comparison, Hermione, maybe this chromosome thing is a wizard thing. No excuses!"

_**ooOOoo**_

About an hour later, the convoy arrived at Sophie's lab in Vauxhall. When they entered the lab, Sophie didn't hesitate to send her two lab assistants and the receptionist home for the day to have the whole lab to them.

Donning her lab coat, Sophie went to retrieve a bowl with strange syringes and a few vials. "So kids, this won't hurt a bit," she smiled at Harry and Hermione, who both turned a bit green at the prospect of getting drained for blood.

Five minutes later, the kids were feeling a bit light-headed.

"Hush up and stop whining. Be a soldier! Press these to the spots or it'll leave a bruise," Sophie ordered Harry to press gauze to the puncture in his elbow, just as Hermione already did.

Harry had simply smirked at her and healed them with two short waves of his hand, causing Sophie to huff at him for knowing better that she did.

"Thank you, Harry, but please do not try anything in the lab. These electronic devices are sensitive and expensive, and we don't know how they react to magic," Hermione reminded Harry with a smirk at her aunt.

"Bloody hell you won't! I'll bleed you dry if you hurt my babies!" Sophie very vocally empathised. Harry was tempted to complain that she already had, but chickened out when it occurred to him that she might need another sample and be less gentle if he did so.

"Well, let's get going on," Sophie spoke as she broke the seal of the first vial. Harry wrinkled his nose as a sharp smell of escaped from it, not unlike of gasoline, but obviously not strong enough for the others to notice.

Twenty very interesting minutes later, the general blood analysis was being printed, while Sophie was busy doing some stuff to Hermione's blood to get the chromosomes behave for the photo, as she had told them. A bit later, she had put the sample into some other device and came over to take the results from Margret.

"As if you could read them, quack," she teased her friend, ignoring the protest, and went over the numbers.

"Alright kids, you are both within normal parameters, just the potassium is odd, it shows a mild hyperkalemia for both of you. Do you eat a lot of vegetables in school?"

"Not really," Harry laughed. Hogwarts was not really known as the pinnacle of dietary balance.

"Ok, than this is probably a symptom of being magical," Sophie drew a conclusion. "It's notably elevated - you both show around 5.2 mmol/l - but not dangerous in any way. Just keep away from bananas, mushrooms and other stuff rich in potassium, kids."

"What is my blood type?" Harry asked. "I always wanted to know."

"You didn't? Well, you're an A positive," Sophie replied after a quick look at the paper.

"Like me!" Hermione remarked happily.

"And a billion others on this planet," Sophie snarked.

Right then, a 'biing' sounded from across the lab. "Ah, my most expensive machine," Sophie quipped, "this means the Karyogram is done."

She removed the paper from the printer and gave a low whistle. "The good thing, Hermione - as far as I can tell you don't have any hereditary diseases. The bad thing, for you, Harry, is that she doesn't have any extra chromosomes, as well."

While Harry didn't really liked to hear that; he was a quite a bit glad that Hermione was alright.

"No need to make such a face. Let's have a look at yours under the microscope," Sophie told them and prepared a sample. A short time later, she carried the sample over to a desk in the corner and inserted it into the microscope sitting on top of it. Flipping a switch that made a projector come to life, letting all of them have a look at it.

"Okay, children, this is Harry's blood," Sophie told the children with her back to the screen as it powered up. "You will notice some things swimming around, most of them are red blood cells" she said. "Let's have a closer look," she spoke, increasing the magnification. "There we are, these are Harry's… pyramidal... blood… cells… With a nucleus?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"What the hell are you?" Doctor Wilson gasped as she looked at the projection and Harry in turn.

The boy only cringed at her outburst, whispering something that only Hermione could understand, as she stood right next to him. She reacted by grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him something fierce. "You are no freak! No matter what the people say, you are NOT a freak! Do you hear me, Potter?"

With a fierce frown, Hermione turned to tear into her honorary aunt, who already had raised her hands in surrender.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that! Really! I was just surprised!" she pleaded. "Calm down! Geez!" she huffed as Hermione realized that this wasn't the place to start a quarrel.

"Let's take a better look at this," Sophie said, and turned back to the projection, fiddling with the settings, once more.

"Ok, there they are. This is strange - mammals usually don't have nuclei in their rbc's. Reptiles do, however. Interesting, I wonder if the shape helps them to hold more oxygen as normal blood cells. Maybe that's why you are that strong. This would help. There's another, and another - cell count seems normal... I guess..."

"What the?" she suddenly exclaimed.

"What is it?" Henry asked, as he and Margret stepped closer to have a better look.

"If I knew, I'd be happy," Sophie replied in a very confused tone, tapping a wiggling thing on the screen.

"Bacterial infection?" Margret guessed.

"I doubt it."

"Why? These are certainly procaryotes," Henry said.

"They have mitochondria," Sophie replied.

"What?" Henry gasped and took a closer look. "Indeed. I never heard of anything like th at."

"Not surprising. There isn't anything like that," Sophie said as she was opening a drawer. "They are something like a missing link. The question is, are they behaving like pro- or eukaryotes?" she said as she returned to the microscope, armed with some kind of thin glass tube.

Harry realized the magnification when the monitor showed a garden hose sized glass thing creeping into view from the right side of the monitor.

"Come to mommy, and you, too. There. Behave, you," Sophie murmured as she began scoping up the strange cells.

"So, now I need a new petri, a bit of Hermione's blood," she said, preparing the items in question. "Oh, and one more thing. You know the difference between science and just fooling around, kids?" She asked, getting only shrugs in reply.

"Taking notes!" She laughed as she fetched a notebook from a drawer.

Walking over to the microscope, she put Harry's sample aside and put Hermione's in. "See, perfectly normal cells, nothing unusual. Now we add these little critters," she said, taking the tube.

"Oh Em Gee," she said after a couple of moments. "Now that's something. Would you look at this?"

The others didn't need to be told twice, and crowded in front of the monitor.

At first, they only saw normal blood cells drifting around. Looking closer, they noticed one of the strange cells from Harry's blood drifting against a regular red blood cell.

Immediately, it became stuck, and its insides started to wriggle. Before their eyes, the mitochondrion split apart, and another lump of DNA was slowly forming out of the original one.

"Mitosis," Margret remarked.

"Long time since I watched that," Henry remarked as he watched the crowded cell, with a double set of everything crammed into it. "And there goes nothing," he said as a constriction was starting to become visible.

He also fell silent as the cell didn't split apart in two cells, but the one half popped and injected her second set of DNA and the spare mitochondrion into the blood cell.

That blood cell wriggled a bit as the new code formed a core, and then slowly changed into a roughly triangular shape, while the other cell floated away, probably looking for another victim, which it quickly found in a white blood cell. The same struggle happened, with a similar result, leaving an extra-spiky white blood cell behind as it floated away.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked, after being unnaturally silent for the whole process.

"That I urgently need to do a few tests with your boyfriend!" Sophie exclaimed while rushing to fetch a full tray of test tubes and other stuff. Then, she slipped into a set of rubber gloves before she returned to his side.

"Would you please spit on that for me?" Sophie said as she held out a small glass strip to Harry.

"Good boy," she said as he complied. Putting another glass strip on top, she put it into a petri dish, and discarded her gloves with a flourish, putting on new ones faster than Harry thought it was possible.

"Now, some more blood," she said, already flexing the rubber band. Harry had no time to protest as his sleeve was shoved up and the device attached to his arm. "Fist!" Sophie commanded, and immediately inserted the needle. Harry blanched as she reached for a tube that was easily five times larger than the one she used before.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Thanks, that should be enough to extract a big enough sample," Sophie said as she shook the vial.

"So, and while I'm examining what I've got, you can do me a last favour - I need a sperm sample," she said , shoving a small transparent plastic jar with a lid in his hand.

"Wha? Hu?" Harry blurted, his face beet-red as his hand cramped around that devilish container.

"A sperm sample, the toilet is the door on the left side in the waiting room," she replied absent-mindedly, while putting the glass plate with his into a microscope.

In panic, Harry looked around for help, but Margret was only smirking at him, and Henry had problems not to keel over with laughter.

Hermione was even more mortified than he was, at least her glowing face indicated as much...

"What are you waiting for? I won't send my goddaughter to assist you," Sophie teased him. "If you need some... inspiration... there must be a week's worth of the Sun on the table in the waiting room. Now shoo!"

Harry practically fled from the room, his head feeling like a lit match as the blood rushed into it. He briefly considered bailing, but then realized that he didn't really have that option. After a short break of shameful hesitation, he blushed even more as he grabbed an issue of The Sun before dashing into the toilet to get it over with.

_**ooOOoo**_

When he returned after a couple of extremely awkward and not very satisfying minutes, he was greeted by the sight of Sophie discarding her rubber gloves and donning new ones - letting the edge snap back noisily as she came his way.

"Took your time, didn't you?" she said with a smile as she took the jar from Harry, immediately removing the carefully crafted paper towel wrapping, and examining the content. "Looking good, well done," she said, rapidly climbing up on Harry's top ten list of evil people as the boy hoped the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"Oh come on, Sophie, give the poor lad a break, won't you?" Henry wheezed between suppressed sniggers, missing his wife glaring at a mortified Hermione, which she had caught trying to sneak a peek at the jar contents. "Yes, Sophie. You had your fun, but this is going a bit too far," Margret agreed, without stopping to glower at Hermione.

"Alright, you Victorian sourpusses, it's not as if that topic was new to teenagers," Sophie huffed as she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ok, sorry kiddo, no bad feelings, ok? Now let's take a look at these guys," she said to Harry, while she prepared a sample for the microscope.

"Ok, your saliva was clean, and theeese... wait... Yep, thought so. These look good, no big bad infectious mutant cells lunging around, at first sight. Of course, I'll do a few more tests with your blood sample, but that is more for my entertainment and science than medical indication," Sophie muttered while she worked the device, exchanging samples and checking them.

"No, nothing to be seen! Grangers, good news, the lad is safe," she proclaimed. "At least as long as you don't do funny magical stuff with his blood, that is," she added with a smirk at her goddaughter.

"So, everything is alright there?" Harry asked anxiously, scratching his back.

"As far as I can tell, everything is ok, the cell count and mobility is normal," Sophie said in a very technical way. "Although," she added, lingering on the word a bit too much to make Harry comfortable.

"What?"

"Well, since your changes are genetic, these new traits will probably be hereditary if - and that's a big if - you are able to reproduce with a human."

"WHAT?"

"You see, you have a different chromosome count than humans do. This means you are a new species, and that also usually means no reproduction with members of other species," Sophie tried to ease the boy into the concept, failing badly.

It took a moment for the gravity of that to register fully with Harry. "You mean, I... I'm no human, any... And... I can't... I won't ever have children?"

"Genetics say that it's highly improbable. I'm sorry, kid. Really," Sophie said as she reached out and touched Harry gently on the shoulder.

"Never? Harry repeated weakly. Of all his hopes, a family of his own had always been the most important one.

Nothing could have held Hermione back right now. She practically flew into his arms and hugged him, holding him up when his breath started hitching.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry was lying on his bed in the room the Grangers had assigned to him, slowly caressing Hedwig's feathers as she rubbed her head into his hand. The last day was a bit fuzzy. He didn't remember much of the rest of the day after the visit to the lab. All he knew was that he was somehow led to the car and driven back, and how he had cried himself out with Hermione, here in the room, with her parents hovering at the edges, supporting them as well as they could. They even cancelled their appointments for the day even though they couldn't do much for him but just being there. Hermione had even had to warn them to stay away from him once when he got so angry in his grief that he lost control of his magic for a few moments.

He was a bit surprised that he actually felt better after crying. It was a long time since he had cried, as the Dursleys would have ridiculed or hit him for doing so. Crying alone in the dark cupboard didn't help too much, neither. Strange how some caring company could make crying such a relieving experience. He felt like his soul was cleansed of something, like the emotional dust of many years of rigid emotional suppression was washed off, somehow. He felt like he could breathe more easily, like the air was cleaner, much like it was after the rain.

Such were his thoughts as he laid on his bed, when suddenly a brightly red-faced Hermione came into the room, leaving the door half open as the standing orders demanded.

Harry immediately sat up in concern. Hedwig made some cooing noises, and hopped away to settle onto the chair next to the desk, where she proceeded to groom her feathers.

"What's wrong, Peaches?" he whispered softly, as he reached out for her.

She flinched away from his touch for a moment, before taking his hand in hers. "Sorry! It's just - Mom... She read something into how I consoled you and ... and... she... had some words with me... about not doing anything stupid just to provesomethingandstuff..." she whispered in a strained voice.

"Hu?"

"She gave me the talk! Again!" she hissed at her dense boyfriend.

"Ouch," Harry responded with a wince. "But, well, it was the second time, how could it be that bad? I mean, you have heard this all before, I guess," he stammered, wisely refraining from adding a comment about her having probably read up everything about it, as well.

"The first time, I was like ten, and she wasn't making me practice condom application!" Hermione hissed angrily. This time, Harry's wince was even more pronounced.

"I can tell you, this topic can be _very_ intimidating for a girl if her mother lectures about it while waving a one foot cucumber around," she spat.

"She did that on purpose to scare me off!" Hermione growled while Harry chuckled at the mental image. "No way a man could be that size," she huffed.

Harry suddenly fell silent and turned his head away.

That sudden reaction made Hermione feel a need to ask a question. "I mean... you know... is there, I mean, something... you want to tell me about?"

She lost a bit of colour when Harry started to hem and haw.

"Well, you see, there is maybe a bit of a something you might want to know about," he said warily, while Hermione's mouth became dry like a desert.

"You see, to be frank, it has, like, grown. A bit." Harry said, still not looking at her. "It's now about... well..." he tried to find the words, and then examined his arm, making a fist. "Like until here," he said, pointing to a spot about five inches short of his elbow, "and about as thick," he said warily.

Hermione crawled away from him and pressed her back against the wall, when he muttered, "On average, if we discount the ridges, that is."

Hermione was feeling her whole body cramp up in fear when she heard that, until she noticed that he had problems keeping the smirk off his face.

"You bloody arse!" she yelled as she grabbed a pillow and started beating him for all she was worth, as he curled up and gave in to the laughter.

Five blows and angry screeches later, she started laughing as well, but that didn't keep her from hitting him some more as he couldn't stop laughing at her.

"You should have seen your face!" Harry wheezed between gales of laughter. With a huff of indigence, she hit him so hard that the pillowcase split open and some white flakes flew all over the bed.

"What's that stuff?" Harry asked while he threw some of it at her, laughing even harder than before.

"That's synthetic stuffing, you dolt," Hermione giggled as she hid behind the half-empty pillow.

"I know that it's plastic, you uppity know-it-all," Harry huffed while he tried to bury her under handfuls of the stuff. "l meant, why no real down?"

"No, mom is allergic to dust mites, so we removed all that gathers dust. Come to think of it, we should check your mop, as well," Hermione snapped back, ending with a squeal when Harry lunged at her and dug his fingers into her ribs.

A few moments later, Harry had successfully tickled her into submission and rolled over to his side next to her, both panting from laughter.

"Feeling better now?" Harry wheezed. Hermione only elbowed him tiredly in response, still heaving. After a few more deep breaths, she rolled over and cuddled into his side. "Yeah, I needed that," she purred as Harry wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tight.

"And yourself?" she asked after watching Harry cleaning up the room with a lazy reparo spell. Wandless, of course. "You took that news pretty badly."

Harry gave a long, shivering sigh that made her hug him tighter on instinct. "You know," he began with a hitching voice, "when I grew up, I always wanted a family. Some time I realized that this would only happen once I had one of my own. The Dursleys would never accept me as a part of their family, no matter how hard I tried. And now I know that I will never..." Harry ended mid-sentence as his voice broke and gave way to sobs. Hermione held him tight and pulled his head onto her shoulder for him to cry.

"Shhhh, hush," she whispered. "It'll be alright. We will have a family, somehow, I promise," she spoke softly, but with determination. "Don't give up, Harry. It'll be alright. Really - magic can do so much, the rules are not that clear if it's involved. Just look at Hagrid, and his Skrewts, or Flitwick. Biology says that all of them are impossible, and still they are there. Don't give up, we'll manage. We'll find a way," she said as she softly stroked his hair.

"Just not right now," she giggled.

_**ooOOoo**_

Out in the hallway, Margret snuck away on tiptoes. When you have teenage children in love in a house, trust is good, but control is better, she had reasoned. She still felt that way, but it didn't make her feel less guilty about spying such a private moment.

_**AN:**_

Making progress, having good inspiration. Still, writing the current story arc is emotionally exhausting.

Thanks to embi and alix, their help is unsubstituteable.


	13. A serious conversation

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 12: A serious conversation...**

The next morning's breakfast was a much more subdued thing. Harry wasn't really hungry, for obvious reasons, and the upcoming ob-gyn visit had spoiled Hermione's appetite, as well.

"Ok, kids," Margret spoke, breaking the silence. "Plans for today - I'll take Hermione to her check-up, and you guys pick up Sophie around ten, and we all meet in London for lunch."

"Check-up?" Harry asked. "At the doctor's? Are you alright?"

"Just a regular exam, Harry," Hermione replied evasively.

"You want me to come with you? Holding your hand and such?" Harry asked, ever the helpful one.

"Did I say something wrong?" He said when Hermione blushed and frantically shook her head, and everyone else started laughing.

"You couldn't know, Harry, but it's a gyn visit," Margret chuckled.

"Gyn? Oh, that kind of doctor," Harry spoke, blushing, as well. His eyes suddenly narrowed as he mentally processed the info and had finished a rough picture of what that visit would look like. His vision tinged pink as he felt his pulse quickening.

"Is that doctor male?" he asked, quite forcefully.

At this very moment, Henry stood up. "Harry, a word. Excuse us, ladies."

"Now," he added when Harry didn't leap to his feet, as well. When Harry rose, reluctantly, Henry led him to the staircase and into his office.

The moment the door fell shut behind them, he was in Harry's face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Hermione is having a hard enough time with that visit, already, and she doesn't need you giving her a bad time, as well," he ranted.

"Not a word!" He hissed when Harry was about to give an angry retort.

"You know, she wouldn't need to go there at all, if it weren't for you. She's doing it because she's considering letting _it _happen, for which alone, all my instincts tell me to shoot you right away. And it baffles me what she sees in you if you can turn into such a bloody arse within moments. I swear, if you don't stop being an arse about it, I'll throw you out and take steps you'll never meet again, understood?" He ranted.

"I've asked if you have understood that," he repeated forcefully when Harry just stood there, not reacting.

"Yes! Yes, Sir! I just, I mean, I... I wasn't prepared," Harry stammered after jumping to attention.

"And went into protect-your-mate mode, I understand. But you need to understand that this isn't about sex. I guarantee you, there isn't anything less erotic than a visit to the ob-gyn. I have a good friend, who almost died of cervical cancer at the age of 28 because she never went for a check-up. She now will never be able to have children, because they had to remove everything to save her life, and she barely made it. So you either accept the fact that a doctor is going to do his job, and be fine with it, or you leave this house, right now."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Harry replied with a small voice.

"And I have to reassess my earlier comment. You certainly do play in that league, if you want to," Harry added with a faint smile.

"Well, you were only dating her, then. You were about to hurt her, now. You don't want to see me if you actually hurt her," Henry replied.

"Understood, Sir," Harry replied. "I'd rather die."

"That's the spirit, son," Henry said as he dropped his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now let's rejoin our women, ok?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"Sorry, your dad had to stop me before I start channelling my inner Ron," Harry spoke as soon as he was back at Hermione's side. She gave him a small smile, and put her hand on his.

"I'd like to make this up to you," he spoke to the whole group. "I know you won't let me pay for lunch," he said.

"Right in one, lad," Henry interrupted with a heartfelt chuckle.

"So maybe we could go to Diagon Alley, so I could buy Hermione a book or something," Harry continued, picking up his breakfast where he was interrupted.

Hermione's eyes twinkled at the proposal, but she had plans of her own, as well. "We might also be able to visit Sirius - he lives quite central," she remarked.

"His library, you mean," Harry murmured into his tea. Margret and Henry snorted with mirth as Hermione flushed, but didn't deny the accusation.

"That would be a tight schedule - doctor, Sophie, Sirius, shopping, lunch," Henry spoke as he pondered the logistics.

"Why don't we combine that, then? We meet up with Sophie at Sirius' place, and go to lunch on Diagon Alley together," Hermione proposed.

"I doubt Sirius would want to go there, he'd be arrested before he made it ten paces in," Harry interjected. Margret made motions to ask something, but neither of them noticed.

"Right, that would cause trouble. He could go as Snuffles, though," Hermione changed her proposal.

Harry frowned at her, shaking his head. "I doubt he would risk that. Too many people there. Also, he might not be let into the restaurant, and conversation would be rather one-sided."

Both stopped their argument when Margret snapped her fingers between them, multiple times.

"Explanation. Now."

It took Harry some moments to get what she was asking for. "Oh, sorry. Sirius is kind of an escaped convict," he explained.

"To be precise, he isn't. He never stood trial, he was framed and locked away for almost 12 years, before he escaped to save Harry," Hermione quickly elaborated as she saw the reaction of her parents.

"Save? From whom?"

"The man who betrayed my parents," Harry replied, cold as ice.

"And Sirius was framed? You sure?" Henry asked.

"Well, he was accused of having killed that very man he had to save us from," Hermione replied. "We both saw the man he allegedly killed with our own eyes."

"And he was framed for that, by whom?"

"That very man made it look like Sirius killed him, so he could go into hiding. While doing so, he accused Sirius of having committed the crimes he was responsible for. The police and the government were happy to have a scapegoat, locked him up and threw away the key," Harry recited, with no small amount of anger. "I should have been living with him all these years, instead of being bullied by my relatives."

"Ok, that sounds believable to me. You understand I had to ask. You can't be too sure," Henry said.

"Just to be sure on his story, he was locked up for a murder he didn't do, escaped from prison after twelve years, and is currently on the run?" Margret inquired, with a smile Harry couldn't quite decipher.

"Oh boy, he has no idea what will hit him," she whispered softly to herself, chuckling.

"Anyway, shouldn't we call him up, first?" Margret asked before Harry could inquire about what she was talking about.

"Mum, wizard here! No phone! But Harry could send Hedwig with a note, she would deliver the reply to him while they pick up Aunt Sophie."

"How would she find you?"

"She can find whomever she wants to. And she will always know where I am," Harry said with a soft smile. Just as if she knew, Hedwig soared into the room from upstairs, settling on the back of one of the spare seats. Almost automatically, Harry picked a piece of bacon from his plate and offered it to her. With a grateful bark, Hedwig rubbed her head against his hand before taking it. Transferring it to her right foot, she began nibbling on the morsel.

"You up for a letter to Sirius?" Harry asked. Hedwig stopped to look at Harry with her head askew. She gave him a bark and continued eating.

"Ok, girl, stupid question, I know, of course you are," Harry laughed.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hello Henry," Sophie said as she kissed his cheeks. Harry was worried for a moment when she turned towards him, but she greeted him only with a shake of hands.

"We should get going - the car is around the block, and we got to fight our way through the traffic," Henry spoke, and started walking in the direction he had indicated.

Sophie held Harry back a bit, trying to talk to him. "Harry, I had a look at the samples, yesterday, and I got good and bad news for you," she whispered, pulling Harry along after Henry was a few yards away.

Harry acknowledged reception with a sigh and a nod. "Bad news first?" he whispered back.

"Quick and painless, your swimmers do have the new DNA. Good news, they are fertile, though."

"And that was the good news?" Harry huffed back in a whisper.

"You know, I do consider it good news that you're not sterile," Sophie whispered as they turned the corner behind Henry.

Harry had no time to reply, as they reached the car and got in hearing range of Henry.

"No lollygagging!" he chided them. "Get in, we need to get going!"

_**ooOOoo**_

A few minutes later, they were almost at the place they had agreed to pick up Margret and Hermione. The trip had been silent, apart from the occasional cursing by Henry. Harry was deep in thought, and Sophie was leaving him some space.

"There they are!" Henry exclaimed when he spotted his girls waiting at the bus stop..

Manoeuvring expertly, he pulled up along the pavement. Hermione and Margret slipped into the back seat, greeting everyone happily. Harry suddenly noticed that it was kind of hard for him to talk to Hermione, even though he wanted to. He just couldn't come up with what to say, and the fact that Margret was smirking at him for some reason didn't help.

"Everything went ok?" Henry inquired as he changed into the lane that lead towards the centre.

"Fine! Everything went fine," Hermione quickly replied, smiling like Christmas had come early, which bothered Harry.

"He let her off with a lecture and the prescription. Told her to come again next year," Margret giggled. "She really thought he would do a full exam on her!"

"Because you made me believe that," Hermione growled, while Harry felt relieved beyond compare.

Her mother laughed brilliantly. "Did you think I'd make it that easy for you? Stuff like that has to be hard, makes you appreciate it. Same for Harry," she said with another smirk at the boy on the other side of the car.

"So this was a test of some kind?" Hermione asked, at the same time as Harry realized it. Only that he had the feeling he didn't pass flawlessly.

This time, Henry answered. "Hermione, we know you well enough to know that once you get an idea, you just act. Call it a wake-up call, for both of you," he said. Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He had really failed that exam, earlier, and wasn't scoring any better, just now.

"And you guys say that I have a strange kind of humor," Sophie huffed from the passenger seat.

"You do. What's your point?" Henry quipped.

Sophie glared back at him, threatening him with her fist. "Can you give me just one reason not to stuff my fist into your smirk, Granger?"

"I'm driving?" he smiled. "Why don't you tell us what you do when you're alone at night," he countered.

"Pardon?" She replied, her right eyebrow risen.

"Didn't you stay up all night doing quirky things with blood?" Henry laughed.

"Your husband still believes he's funny," Sophie ranted. "Anyway, I did do some further tests, and found out that Harry's genes are stabilizing - they were less fuzzy in the last sample than in the original one."

"Is that good news or bad?" Harry asked.

"Don't know. I found out that there are more than one kind of these critters crawling around in the sample. They do fight each other over Harry's cells, assimilating them over and over again."

"Assimilating? Is the Trekky talking, again?" Henry quipped, turning left. "Turning into Judd Street, now," he informed them on the progress, as he suddenly got exited.

"Hey, there's an empty space to park - I guess we'll walk the rest of the way," he suddenly exclaimed as he set his indicator.

"Do we? It's three or four blocks," Sophie griped.

Henry ignored her protest, reversing into the empty space. "You ever tried getting a parking space here, before? This one is as good as gold!" He huffed as he killed the engine.

"Take the map with you, dad," Hermione reminded him as they started to file out of the car.

Once they all were standing on the pavement, Sophie suddenly socked Henry's right biceps.

"OY! That hurt!"

"That was the plan. For your information, you're not driving, anymore, so be thankful I aimed for your arm, wisecrack!" she huffed.

_**ooOOoo**_

"It must be somewhere here," Hermione spoke as she studied the map. "Next street to the left, I think."

True to her prediction, the group of five turned into Grimmauld Place only a few minutes later.

"There's Sirius's house," Harry cried out when he saw the old, almost decrepit mansion in the middle of the street of brick and mortar homes.

"Where? Behind that condemned ruin?" Henry spoke.

"It's not that bad," Harry spoke as he ran over to knock at the door, very softly, as Sirius had told him to in the reply.

"Harry! Don't go there!" Margret yelled as he ran up the stairs. Hesitating only for a moment, Harry ignored her and knocked.

"Harry! Come back here, this instant! It's not safe!" Henry shouted, just when Sirius opened the door and stepped out.

"Sirius, good to see you!"

"Hey, pup! How nice of you to swing by," Sirius laughed as he put his arm around Harry and led him down the stairs to the street.

Meanwhile, the others had approached the house, but held a good distance. Margret was even holding Hermione back from coming closer.

"Hey Hermione! Missus, Missus, Sir - good to meet you, I'm Sirius Black," Sirius spoke in a warm voice as he stepped closer and extended his hand.

A bit carefully, Henry reached out to shake it, first, as the women still stared at their host. "Henry Granger, and this is my wife, Margret," he replied, his eyes wandering between Sirius and the house.

"Pleased to meet you. Don't let the eye deceive you, it's just camouflage," Sirius chuckled as he gallantly took her hand.

"And whom do I have the pleasure to meet, now; last but certainly not least," Sirius spoke with a twinkle in his eyes as he laid those upon Sophie.

"And this is Doctor Sophie Alistair," Margret completed the introduction.

"Hello, Missus Alistair, nice to meet you. May I ask how you are related to Hermione?" Sirius spoke as he held out his hand.

"Miss. It is a pleasure meeting you, I'm actually her Godmother, but she sees me more like a honorary Aunt," Sophie corrected as she took the hand offered to her.

"In that case, I am honored to meet you, Miss Alistair," Sirius retorted as he bowed to kiss her hand.

Sophie couldn't help but smirk at the antics of that man. "How charming you are," she purred.

"I'm a wizard, it comes with the job."

"So your job is charming women?" came the prompt reply.

"It's more of a calling," he answered with a smug grin, enjoying the banter while he pulled his wand to add them to the wards.

"And does your natural charm suffice or do you always have to wave your wand at women to achieve results?" she chirped as she used the chance to shoot him down.

"Usually, I use my animal magnetism. Ladies just can't keep their hands off me when I do," Sirius chuckled as he went through the routine to grant them passage. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but to groan at his remark.

Sophie was distracted when Henry and Margret gasped next to her, and suddenly, she did the same as the construction site in front of them turned into a once impressive house in a state of extreme disrepair.

"Where did that house come from?" She gasped.

"Muggle repelling wards," Sirius explained. Noticing her questioning look, he quickly added a longer version. "Non-wizards would only see an off-limit site that they won't even think of entering. Keeps even solicitors away," he grinned as he took her arm and started leading her towards the door.

"I don't know if I want to enter that, still," Sophie replied pertly. "Quite rundown."

Sirius frowned. "A bit. Mum died while I was in prison, and the worthless house elf has let the house rot away ever since."

"You were in prison?" Sophie asked, quite shocked, but didn't pull her arm away. Margret surreptitiously poked Henry with her elbow, sniggering softly.

Sirius suddenly looked quite sheepish. "Umm, to my eternal regret, yes," he said, obviously uncomfortable with the way that information was delivered.

"What did you sit for, and for how long?"she asked, but quite interested instead of horrified, which confused Harry a bit.

"Well, a murder I didn't commit, and for as long as it took me to let myself out," Sirius said, chuckling roughly over his own joke.

"When Harry's parents, good friends of Sirius, were killed at the end of a civil war, Sirius tracked down the former friend that betrayed them to the murder. That man, when cornered, shouted out that Sirius was the one who murdered Harry's parents, and then faked his own death, killing 12 people, and making it look like Sirius did that. Sirius got arrested and the parliament decided that since the war was finally over, this issue should be buried and detained him indefinitely without trial, Aunt Sophie," Hermione tried to explain the issue.

"So you are a bad boy, but innocent?" Sophie asked, once more in a teasing voice.

"Yes, and yes," Sirius smiled back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he did so.

Margret simply rolled her eyes at her friend, while grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, before slapping Sophie's shoulder. "Could we continue this, like, inside?" She reminded them that they were talking about such sensitive things almost in the middle of the street.

Sophie and Sirius, both jumped. A bit flustered, Sirius rushed to open the door, and invited them in with a flourish.

_**ooOOoo**_

"It looks a bit better from the inside," Sophie remarked as they stepped into the entrance hall. It would have looked impressive in its time, but all the flaking paint and dull wood told that this time had been quite a time ago.

"Where were we? Oh yes, your animal magnetism..." she resumed flirting.

"Well, I have been called a dog, sometimes," Sirius rose to the challenge.

Meanwhile, Hermione was distracted by a groan from her boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" she asked, while trying to follow the ever quickening crossfire of thinly veiled innuendo about magic wands between Sirius and Sophie.

"Can't you see? We created a monster by bringing these two together! As soon as they are done flirting, they will probably team up on teasing me!" Harry moaned, throwing his head back to send an accusing glance at the ceiling, and the sky above, before turning towards the smirking Margret.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you? And here I thought Hermione was the witch of the family."

"Oh Harrykins, am I sensing some wand-envy here?" Sirius asked while ruffling his godson's hair, having taken a break from the verbal fencing with Sophie to tease his godson.

Harry chose to reply by grabbing the man at the front of his robes and lifting him, one-handedly.

Sirius struggled for a second, looked down at his feet dangling in the air, and gave a sigh. "Ok, no jokes about your wand, I get it," he huffed, and was returned to the ground for his concession, while everybody else was gobsmacked at Harry's demonstration.

"Bollocks, a boring square with super strength - Merlin! It's like back in Hogwarts and teasing Remus all over, again," Sirius continued to mope as he turned and waved them to follow. "Follow me, and be very, very quiet," he whined and walked towards the back of the entry hall, his shoulders slumped as he shuffled forward.

Harry and Hermione followed him down the entry hall, knowing that with Sirius, all was just show and banter. Soon, the Muggle adults followed as well.

Walking down the hallway, the people took a look around. The room looked almost as worn down as the outside. The walls were covered with dark wood panels that lost their paint and finish decades ago, some showing huge cracks. In combination with the huge chandelier, it probably once looked quite impressive, but in the current state, spider webs and all, it looked creepy. The furniture didn't help an iota, and had Sophie muttering about interior designers. Hermione had to agree, and frowned when she spotted an umbrella stand in the corner that was obviously made out of a troll's foot. Noticing a curtained-off area at the left wall, between two doors, she called out to Sirius ahead. "Hey Sirius, what's behind that curtain?"

She had but a moment to wonder why Sirius' shoulders slumped at her call, when suddenly, the curtains came to life and flew open, revealing a portrait of a chubby old matron that sported a look so haughty that she almost seemed constipated. That look changed immediately into a mask of pure rage as her look fell onto the visitors in their tell-tale clothing.

"MUDBLOODS! MUGGLES! WHAT DOES THAT FILTH WITHIN THESE NOBLE HALLS?" she screeched, and Sirius rushed and tried to pull the curtains, which fought back and tried to whip him, close.

"Go, I'll handle this foul hag," he called while the portrait continued to spout expletives against Muggles and called for a "Kreacher" to dispose of them. "Last door on the left," he hissed as a curtain again escaped his grip and slapped him across the face. Harry's group quickly complied and rushed into that room.

The room turned out to be clean and rather cosy, with a couch group, table and all. A big cupboard with an assortment of things, and a huge fireplace that gave the room almost a warm, cosy feeling. On the wall opposite to the fireplace, there was a huge window front, giving them a great view of London. Meanwhile, Sirius could be heard having a shouting match with the picture that revealed a lot of new words and implied the fact that this painting depicted Sirius' mother.

Harry's contemplations were interrupted by a pop and a female cry. Whirling around, he saw that a creature that resembled a house elf, but ancient and filthy, had dropped Margret. She had stood next to the door, and was screaming in anguish as the elf was trying to drag her out by the handful of hair he had .

In a flash, Harry was there and kicked the elf in the ribs, sending it flying across the room, a few strands of hair still in his clawed hand. Henry rushed to help his wife, who had curled up where she laid. The old elf bounced off the wall with a wet thud, but was astonishingly fast to roll back on his feet, and jumped at Sophie.

Much to his disappointment, Harry was in a good position, and a Seeker. A quick step and a stretch, and Harry's hand closed around a small, green neck. A slam against the wall later, Harry had the snarling and squirming creature under control. "You will leave them in peace," he growled dangerously low, ignoring the increasing number of scratches on his arm as the suspended elf tried to claw himself free.

"Kreacher won't," he snarled in reply, ceasing his worthless attempts and settled for a hateful look of disdain. "Vermin! Filth! Kreacher cleans house," he ranted and finished with hacking up and spitting in Harry's face. Harry snarled as once more, his sight grew pink.

"Harry!" Hermione's shriek sounded as Harry's left fist slammed through the wood panels.

"You will leave them in peace," Harry repeated, this time in a whisper. Kreacher looked at the five inch hole right next to his head, and for a moment, Harry thought he had seen the old elf flash in a purple light, but his view was still too clouded to discern the color properly.

"Kreacher will," was the subdued reply of the now non-resisting elf.

"Ok, sorry for that incident," Sirius spoke as he came through the door, "that vile hag has..."

His look went from the crying Margret in Henry's arms to the shocked Sophie and Hermione in the corner, to end up at Harry pinning a passive Kreacher to a damaged wall.

"Ok, what did I miss?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"That little bastard hurt my wife!" Henry growled from his place at the floor.

"What? Wait, let me help," Sirius called out, pulling his wand and hurrying over to them. Carefully waving his wand, Sirius regenerated Margret's scalp, before he switched spells and started growing her hair out.

"Say when," he joked as the hair slowly grew down her head, closing in on the length needed. "While I'm at it, do you want a new hairstyle, or maybe some other color?" Sirius continued with a flamboyant grin.

"If I were you, that would depend on whether he did his own mop," Sophie teased from behind, but nonetheless closely examining the things going on.

"You wound me, Miss. Let me tell you that I indeed produced that masterpiece, I sadly lacked the time to correct it after it got forcefully modified," Sirius huffed. "So, done!" he proclaimed as the strand of hair was no longer different to the rest.

Margret stood, controlling the hair. "Thank you, very nice. That would have cost me a fortune at the salon."

"Yes, yes, alright, you look pretty, Gretty. I'd rather talk about that forceful modification - sounds interesting," Sophie remarked.

"Well, kind of a stupid story," Sirius said as he sat down on the couch, inviting the others to take their places as he started recounting the tale.

"Stay here," Harry whispered absent-mindedly as he set Kreacher down softly before he joined the others.

"You see, it's hardly my fault," Sirius told everybody. "You would hardly expect a trained watch Salamander in a kitchen."

"You lost your hair to a Salamander?" Sophie asked, quite surprised.

"Aunt Sophie, a Salamander is something different than what you think of. Think of a lizard made of living fire - they live in a fire and can barely survive outside of it," Hermione set her straight.

"Oh!"

"And dealing with them is third year level," Hermione set Sirius straight.

"Right, usually, yes," Sirius stammered, "But it surprised me and singed my hair with the first lunge. And as I retreated into the hallway to get some distance, I found out that my, um, manly shout of surprise, had agitated the grandfather clock. Didn't know it could shoot crossbow bolts at people. Luckily, it has a really bad aim. Between those two, it took a while to take control of the situation," Sirius confessed, stroking his hair self-consciously under the laughter of everyone else.

_**ooOOoo**_

Looking around, Sirius noticed Kreacher still standing around near the wall. "Kreacher, get lost - go clean something for a change!" he barked.

"I told you to go and do something useful, you menace," Sirius shouted when Kreacher didn't move a muscle.

"Sirius, not that I'm particularly fond of him, but I don't like it when you talk like that," Harry spoke. "I was on the receiving end of such talk often enough during my life."

"Oh, sorry, pup," Sirius apologized. "I keep forgetting how bad your childhood was."

"It's not me you should apologize to," Harry replied, not even noticing how Hermione almost melted with pride next to him as he rose to defend a house elf.

"But he attacked Missus Granger," Sirius retorted, quite confused.

"And he won't do that, again, will he?" Harry asked in Kreacher's direction.

"Kreacher won't , Master," the old elf replied from his spot near the wall.

It took a moment to register with Sirius, but he suddenly turned back to the elf, staring at him.

"Master? Did you just call Harry Master?" Sirius gasped.

"Did you?" Harry asked, as well, quite uneasy with a suspicion.

Kreacher was a bit surprised by the question. "You don't want me to call you 'Master', Master?"

Harry sighed. "You mean, you are my house elf now? Why?"

Kreacher shrugged. "Kreacher was ordered to clean house of Muggleborn, Master ordered Kreacher not to do so, Kreacher obeyed. Kreacher now Master's elf," the ancient creature replied, which resulted in Harry turning back around towards the table, and dropping his head hard onto the top.

"Wait, did you just steal my house elf?" Sirius queried, while all others sat and watched in silence.

"Seems so," Harry whispered into the desktop.

"The house elf that never cleans, ignores all infestations, insults me all the time and attacks my guests?" Sirius dug deeper, his mouth starting to twitch.

Harry only dignified that question with a growl.

By now, Sirius was in a full-blown grin. "Shall I wrap him up for you?"

"Don't you want him back? You need some help cleaning up here," Harry remarked.

"Sold as is," Sirius said, raising his arms defensively. "Help would be really nice, but not having him would be just as helpful."

Hermione's prior pride in Harry had already evaporated. "You two are awful! You can't just barter over a person like that!"

"And what are we supposed to do with him? I don't have any home to look after, and I doubt your parents want him in your house," Harry replied.

"No son, we certainly don't need him, and I doubt he would be much help, given the state of this house," Henry replied.

"He's of no use to me in Hogwarts, neither," Harry moaned. "Best I set him free, I guess," he said.

That statement had a profound effect on the elf.

"Kreacher sorry, Kreacher too old to snap, Kreacher can barely pop, anymore. With old Mistress, Kreacher's head would long be on wall, already," Kreacher replied, to everyone's surprise.

"I beg your pardon? You mean you can't do magic, anymore?" Hermione asked, surprised by the statement, but the only one who understood what the elf meant.

"Kreacher too old. Kreacher should have teached new elf years ago, but Mistress already dead and no new Master here to get new elf. Good Master was dead and Bad Master was in Azkaban."

"And the house? Couldn't you lift a hand to do a thing, neither?" Sirius huffed.

"Kreacher good elf, Mistress forbid Kreacher cleaning Muggle way - Kreacher obeyed, snapped as much as he still could, but didn't touch anything," was the proud reply.

Sirius was quite baffled hearing that. "So you let the whole house fall in disarray because Mother forbid you manual work and you couldn't do magic? Why didn't you help when I was here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Bad Master did not ask, only ordered to clean, but not allow Kreacher Muggle way of work. Kreacher tries, but cannot snap. Bad Master only yelled at Kreacher for not trying hard enough," was the sad reply.

"Now I feel like an arsehole," Sirius stated dryly, frowning. Even Margret was fighting tears by this time. She certainly wasn't about to hug the very misunderstood creature that attacked her only minutes ago, but the tale was moving.

"Wait a moment!" Harry suddenly called out. "Sirius, do you really need help here? I think I could settle another score with this. Honestly, no strings attached, apart from the fact she really wants to be part of a family. Winky used to be the Crouch house elf, but she was given clothes for something she didn't do, in order for Crouch to save face. She didn't take too well to freedom, and desperately wants to have a new family to care for."

Hermione's eyes widened as she heard Harry speak. Sirius was a bit stunned, but not completely averse to that proposition.

"Well I guess so, Kreacher can't help much, any more, and I don't have the best credentials when it comes to keeping things clean. You should see my last home, it was a real mess," he tried weak humor. Harry shook his head at the bad pun and continued.

"Kreacher, you will find her at Hogwarts. Ask for Dobby, he will help you to find Winky."

"Very well, Master," the old elf replied with a deep bow, and popped away without raising again.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt, but I have a wee question. What is it about being given clothes? What the hell does that mean," Margret asked.

"That means he sent her away," Sirius explained. "This is some symbolic gesture that terminates the bond between elf and Master."

"But it doesn't make sense, he's wearing clothes already, why would giving him clothes have any effect?"

"Well, that's historic, Middle Ages. You see, human blood is poisonous to an elf, and excruciatingly painful. If you wanted to punish of an elf, you forced him to wear your clothes, so the fleas in them would bite him. Given long enough time, it would torture him to death," Sirius explained.

"How horrible!" Sophie shouted, while Hermione was almost in tears when she learned the origins of that custom.

"Very dark and brutal times," Sirius agreed. "Anyway, at some point, elves started punishing themselves brutally for the slightest misbehaviour, just to avoid that punishment. The clothes punishment was becoming rare, the ultimate punishment, and the elves realized that giving them clothes meant that the Master truly wanted them dead. That sufficed to break the bond. So even though there aren't any fleas, any more, the act of giving clothes became a symbol."

"That is loathsome culture you guys live in. Slavery and torture of other sentient races," Sophie said with a shiver.

"They don't stop there. In their prison, they have soul-eating demons that make you live through your worst nightmares over and over, again, every second you are there," Harry remarked. Of course, this made everybody look at Sirius, who had gone quiet at this statement.

"It was hell, I'd rather off myself than going back there," Sirius finally said, his voice grim. "Twelve years," he added gravely. "Twelve endless years with those monsters... And everyone happily lived on and forgot about me," he said as he stood and walked over to the cupboard.

Opening the door, it revealed an assortment of bottles and a samovar, of which Sirius made use, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Tea, anyone?" He asked around. Getting only negative replies, he singled out Henry. "Brandy?" He asked.

"Thanks, I'm good," Henry refused. "I'm driving."

"Suit yourself," Sirius smiled back, spiking his tea generously, and taking a sip while he returned to his seat.

"Hey pup, I just had an idea - what do you think? Should we retire Kreacher? You could give him to Dumbledore - as a personal elf? We sure still owe the old bugger for the stunts he pulled with you and me."

"Don't know," Harry replied with a smirk. "Seems excessive to me. And he'd probably just send him off to work for Hogwarts."

"Heaven forbid," Henry huffed. "He's far too dangerous to be around children!"

"Can't be worse than the other things I encountered. Trolls, three-headed dogs, Dragons, Acromantulas, I even ran across a Basilisk," Harry recounted with a good chuckle.

"SIRIUS! Everything alright?" he cried out when Sirius choked on his drink.

"Basilisk?" Sirius coughed. "You... en.. met... one?" He croaked, tried to get rid of the half-half tea and brandy mixture in his windpipe.

"Yes, second year - the Chamber of Secrets business. Didn't I tell you about it?"

"No, you haven't. But you should have! The fact that you escaped from an encounter with the most deadly creature on this planet isn't something you keep from your godfather."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, Harry killed it, isn't that what you wrote, darling?" Margret asked her daughter.

"Yes, mum. The basilisk, in the Chamber of Secrets, with the sword of Gryffindor," Hermione replied, to the amusement of the muggle adults. Harry made a mental note to ask later what exactly was so funny about that reply, but currently, he was too worried about Sirius.

The man had started to rub his face, eyes and temples vigorously, and frowning like he'd want to outdo Snape on a particularly bad day.

"Harry, I think we two should sit together and have a long talk, with no details left out, don't you agree?" Sirius finally growled from underneath his hands.

"Yes, probably. I just rather forget about it. If it weren't for Fawkes' tears, that bite would sure have killed me. That was scary," Harry tried to explain his silence away.

Now Harry was seriously concerned about Sirius' well-being. The man had stopped almost all motion as he stared at Harry, slack-jawed. All but a twitch in his right cheek.

_**AN:**_

Happy New Year, everybody.  
It can't be worse than the last ended. I managed to hurt both my arms just before Christmas – badly sprained from the elbows down – while working at the farm. It was so nice – ten days holidays, no disturbance and perfect weather, and I could barely lift my arms. So no forging. And my laptop died, and because of the holidays, it took me until December 28th to get new parts to put it back together. So no writing, neither.

But now, as the holidays are over, my PC works again, and my arms are fine. Just in time for work.

Speaking of work - please appreachiate the hard work Alix33 and Embirsephonelilathia have put into polishing this up.


	14. One too much

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling... Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 13: One too much...**

"And you thought getting bitten by the single-most rare poisonous thing in this world, and getting healed by the even less common mythical creature was a thing you wouldn't need to tell me? Are you serious?"

Harry winced when his godfather all but screamed at him.

"I thought you are Sirius? Is he named after you?" Sophie interrupted. "That would be cute!"

For a moment, Sirius stared at the woman smiling back at him, before he snorted and sketched a bow to her for successfully running interference.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked when Sirius stood up.

"Got to fetch a book from the library, pup."

"I'll help you," Hermione cried as she jumped to her feet. "WHAT?" She hissed, when everybody started laughing at her.

"Sorry, Hermione," Sirius said, smiling softly. "But it's too dangerous in there - the last time, a cursed book almost took my head off when it started spewing pages at me."

"Are you serious?" Margret gasped.

"Why yes, I am," he replied with a wolfish grin.

Henry answered in her stead, while Margret was busy rolling her eyes at the man.

"Well played, Sir, well played, but I believe my wife wanted to express her disbelief in people making such a dangerous books," he chuckled.

"Well, normal people don't write extraordinary books. The people who do, though, tend to add certain charms... they find... funny..."

"Like making a book about monsters that behaves like a monster," Hermione added her two Knuts.

"Chewed through a pair of my sneakers when it got loose," Harry affirmed her statement.

"Thank you," Sirius reclaimed the conversation. "These people are either mad geniuses who think they're funny, or mad bastards who think someone who can't deal with that shouldn't read their work, anyway."

"Can't you disarm them? Or make a normal copy?" Margret asked.

"I bet they are tamper-proofed, right? I'd do that with my book," Sophie remarked with an evil smirk. "Oh yes, I so would," she snickered, while Margret watched her warily.

"Miss Alistair is correct. The works that can be disarmed, usually have been, but those which aren't lethal are generally copied as intended. But most works are left untouched - Wizards think of disarmed copies as inferior."

"Collectibles, I understand," Henry replied.

"Oh yes. The more dangerous and rare, the better. At some time, Authors made a sport out of it, and tried to keep score of how many their works killed. I think the record still stands with Roderick Blastershire, and his work 'Exothermal elemental entrapments', at 38 with only fifty copies ever made and 12 left in circulation."

"Interesting maths," Sophie quipped. "Still crazy, though."

"We're wizards, weird and crazy is right up our alley," Sirius grinned back.

"You see, that's why you shouldn't go alone, it's too dangerous," Hermione insisted.

"By that logic, I should take Harry with me. He could use magic, and is much stronger than you," Sirius teased back.

"Leave me out of this," Harry grumbled when Hermione shot him a look of betrayal, even though he hadn't done anything.

"I'll show you around later, when it's safe, I promise. If you excuse me, it won't take long," Sirius excused himself and walked out.

"Cue ominous music, crashes and screams from afar, aaaaand action!" Sophie joked.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted.

"Be quiet, I'm already checking up on him, he's gone up the stairs. Opening door... Closing it. Steps. More walking. Jump. Standing still. Running. Sharp stop. Hmm?" Harry gave a running commentary, his eyes firmly shut as he concentrated on his hearing.

"What?"

"Sounded like a flock of birds. He's walking again. Strange sound, something crackled, and he jumped. Now he's cursing, quite creative, I say," Harry said with a faint tinge to his face.

"That bad?" Henry joked.

"I don't think people could do that without a lot of magic," Harry chuckled. "Hush now!" he said as he tried to concentrate on the sounds, again. "Triumphant shout, I think he got it. Walking, jump, running, falling down, thumps and cursing, standing up, more thumps. Strange - he's at the door now, that was much quicker as he was before. And now he's coming down."

A few moments later, a grinning group welcomed Sirius back. His clothes were a bit dirty, dishevelled, and his hair stood slightly on edge, smoking faintly as he strolled in like all was in best order, rose garden, and stuff.

"Accidentally brushed against the weather section," he admitted when he noticed the people were staring at his hairdo.

"And the rest?" Harry inquired. "Something tripped you, right?"

"I kept an ear on you," he admitted when Sirius stared at him in complete disbelief.

"Remus, all over, again," Sirius sighed with an accusing glance at the ceiling. "There are a couple of chained, flying books, and they beat you when you walk by. One of them tripped me on the way back. The others used that occasion to pummel me. Buggers!"

"And you apparated out, didn't you," Hermione analysed the facts.

"No need fighting back, and I had what I wanted," Sirius grumbled, glowering at the laughing Harry.

"Apparate? What's that that?" Sophie asked, ever the curious.

In reply, Sirius simply spun and disappeared from sight.

"That's apparition," he whispered into her ear from behind her. With a piercing shriek, Sophie leaped off the couch and to her feet.

"Don't do that!" she yelled, her hand on her heaving chest as she glared at him.

"Ditto," Henry said, holding his equally scared wife in his arms. "People got shot for less," he said coldly, glowering at Sirius.

"Spoilsports. You asked, I demonstrated. Anyway," Sirius spoke as he rounded the couch the conventional way and put the ancient foliant onto the table. Turning some pages, he finally found the spot he was looking for.

"Hermione, may I burden you with the task of reading this to us?" He chuckled.

Hermione almost squealed as she shot to his side, all but shouldering him away.

"Here," Sirius spoke as he tapped a paragraph.

_**ooOOoo**_

"The art of fleshforming is the most fickle of the alchemistic arts. There have been written quite a many works on the primitive form of this, the simple mating of breeds with the help of tinctures. I refuse to call this practice an art, for it is akin to rolling a dice, letting chance decide what result you achieve. Usually, it results in hideous beasts with no resemblance to any of the ancestor forms, and usually even less use, apart from letting it rampage across helpless Muggle townlets," Hermione recited the paragraph, until Harry interrupted.

"And this is important, why?"

Sirius noisily shushed Harry. "Wait for it, pup. Go on, read on."

"Hope you do have a point, it is interesting, but quite hard to translate into modern English. Some of this spelling is making my eyes bleed," Hermione replied.

"You know, I do have a book which actually does makes your eyes bleed when reading it, somewhere," Sirius replied. "Now go on!" He urged her.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't need to be told twice.

"The true art lies in a selective or total combination of two or more species. This has been done quite successfully in the creation of the sphinx - and wise men still discuss whether the primary host was the lion or the woman, and of which it gained its knack for riddles and its aggression."

"I do have a theory," Henry replied in jest, earning himself a swat over the head from his wife.

"And proof," he said, rubbing his scalp.

"Fancy a test series?" Margret growled, making a fist.

"No, I'm good. Let's continue listening to our daughter, ok?" Henry quickly made a retreat, knowing when things had gotten real.

Shaking her head, Hermione took up reading where she stopped.

"Another example are the centaurs, and part of their resentment of wizards lies in the fact that they - vehemently - deny their origin. Alas, such perfect and fertile creations are beyond our abilities for the time being, for it has been generations since the last basilisk was seen (which would be easy to rectify if one were determined enough), and even longer since phoenix tears were available."

"Perfect! Thank you, Hermione," Sirius interrupted her, reaching for the book to close it.

Hermione held on to it. "I can't leave it half-read," she stammered. "I'll bring it back when I'm done."

"No way," Sirius said, as he carefully eased the book out of her resisting fingers. "This book is one of only two remaining copies, and you'd be arrested if anyone saw it on you."

"This art isn't exactly popular," he told the others as he took the book to him.

"Gee, I wonder why," Sophie quipped.

"Eludes me," Sirius grinned.

"Ok, now what is it with that basilisk and phoenix," Sophie inquired.

"They are ingredients to make a chimera," Hermione recounted the facts. "I could read up the how, quickly," she offered.

"Nice try, lassie," Sirius smirked. "There is a substance, called neutralized basilisk poison, which is one of the rarest and most valuable substances known to wizardkind," he explained to Sophie.

"How rare and valuable are we talking about?" Sophie asked, not missing any chance to talk to Sirius.

"A dram of it would get you a mansion these days. And someone would kill for it, quite literally, as this is how it was made," Sirius replied.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, basilisk poison is quite volatile. It can't be stored for more than a few days, or it, kind of dies. Preservative spells are said to kill it, as well. So it had to be fresh. Now, collecting venom from a creature whose look would kill you, and only bites when agitated is quite tricky, you'd guess," Sirius tried to explain the predicament. Of course, putting it that way, it was quite obvious to anyone that this wasn't something you'd like to do on a regular basis.

"So they just blinded an animal, put a rope around it, sent it in to the basilisk's room and then pulled it back out, draining the poison out of the blood. Add some phoenix tears to it and you're good - if you can get them somewhere. The dormant, neutralized poison can be stored for years, if undisturbed, I've read."

"That explains a lot," Sophie retorted. "The acting agent of that poison seems to be bacterial, not chemical. These tears seem to cause them to get into spore stage. How is the stuff used?"

"That's the interesting part. You have to dissolve parts of one species in the poison by magic, which reactivates it, and then administer it to the recipient. Strong magic can be used to hasten the process. So does stress or pain," Sirius recounted.

"Yes, that spell would be used quite often," Sirius agreed when he saw Hermione and Harry wrinkling their noses at what he said. "That's one of the reasons that art is not quite popular, anymore."

"There is other magic that can control the changes, guiding them along. Strong traits of the species will be always present, though. It has a random element, but once you have one final... Let's call it specimen... You can use their blood to create more," Sirius finished.

"This concurs with my results," Sophie smiled triumphantly. "I found more than one type of these cells, and they are fighting each other and over Harry. They share some genes, but others are different."

"Genes?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"Building plans for a creature, every living thing got a set that describes what it will look like. Like a spell for creating a certain animal, plant or person," Hermione gave a wizardized explanation.

"Muggles can extract a formula on how to create a being? Do they create them often?"

"I believe it's done with plants, and they are working on cloning animals," Sophie pondered.

"Cloning?"

"Copying a being," Hermione explained. "Aunt Sophie, the witches and wizards live in what basically is Victorian times, you need to be more precise with him."

Sirius frowned back at her. "Thanks, I guess. That was the most back-handed help I've ever gotten. Sorry I don't understand Muggle science well enough, but I could totally take the mickey out of any of you in a magical theory debate."

"Well, maybe not you," he snapped when Hermione accepted that challenge with a smug rise of one eyebrow," but all others present!"

"Sorry, Sirius," Sophie apologized. "You got three doctors in the room. And Hermione. We four occasionally forget that others don't do science like we are used to."

"Everybody got his speciality, and things we're useless with," Margret added.

Henry agreed. "Right, I can't cook and couldn't put a nail straight into a wall if my life depended on it."

"If you want a good laugh, watch me dancing," Margret continued.

"Hey, don't look at me," Sophie huffed. "I'm perfect in every conceivable way."

"And modest to a fault," Henry chuckled.

"You know, that infighting would explain why the changes occur gradually," Hermione interrupted the banter. "Only the genes that are shared are truly effective. While they fight it out, some strains go extinct, and variation is reduced," she announced happily.

"Sounds legit," Henry replied. "How many strains are left?"

Sophie shrugged her shoulders. "By the count in my sample, only three or four, I can't be sure out of a sample that small. The caryo is only massively fuzzy in three chromosomes, anymore. Using Hermione's theory, this would mean that there aren't many changes left, but I can't say how many, for there isn't any direct relation between chromosomes and traits," she said.

"Now that's a relief," Harry sighed. "What are the bets I grow a tail?" He grumbled, before he stretched his back. Margret shot him a disapproving glance when it popped nastily.

Standing up, he went over to the fireplace, leaned against the mantle, and stared into the fire. "I can't take this much longer. I'm scared to hell and back again. I just want to lead a normal life, well, as normal as a wizard could get," he said, sighing deeply.

"Bugger me!" he yelled as he jumped back from the flaring fire, patting his jeans to extinguish the embers he was pelted with.

"I've got enough of this - I'm supposed to be part dragon, and still, the fire hates me," he cursed with venom.

"Could you come over here, Harry, I think I know what's going on here," Sirius asked.

Huffing, Harry shrugged his shoulders and returned to the group, dragging his feet and letting his shoulders hang. "More tests?" he huffed.

"Just a simple one," Sirius tried to calm his godson. "Come here," he commanded, patting the space next to him.

After Harry had reluctantly complied, Sirius drew his wand. With a flick and twist of his wand, he created a candle, lighting it with a jab. "Now hold your breath and get your face close to the flame," he ordered.

"So that I burn myself?"

"Just humour me," Sirius huffed.

"If I lose an eyebrow, I'll shave your head," Harry growled, but did as he was told. Strangely, the flame sat as still as an open flame could, faintly dancing in the air.

"Now exhale, slow and steady," Sirius told Harry. "And maybe move a bit back before you do.

Heeding that warning, Harry moved back a few inches, and started exhaling.

"Whoa! Looks like a Bunsen burner now," Henry exclaimed as the candle suddenly burned with a blue flame, shrinking at a remarkable pace.

"What the heck is going on here?" Harry cried out as he sat back upright. "This is not right!"

"Don't take it personal, pup, but I'm afraid you got dragon breath," Sirius stated, rolling his eyes when Harry glared at him in reply.

"And you got dog's breath," Harry growled back.

"Merlin! Don't you learn anything at Hogwarts, these days? You should have had dragons in Care, already!" Sirius huffed in frustration.

"Sirius, first, we had a man with less than the average limbs for a teacher, then we had Hagrid, who was willing to show dangerous critters, but didn't tell much about them, except for how beautiful and misunderstood they were," Harry replied. "All we know about dragons is that they are snappy and grow fast, but this we know firsthand," he finished.

"Hagrid tried raising a dragon in his wooden hut," Hermione explained before anyone could ask.

"Boy, sometimes I wonder if wizardkind is getting dumber or it's just Hogwarts getting worse in getting stuff into their heads," Sirius huffed. "Okay, a bit of theory. While it is widely known that dragons can breathe fire, their normal breath is affecting fire just the way you just demonstrated."

"That doesn't make sense," Margret replied. "That flame was definitely acting as if it were in a high oxygen atmosphere. That would mean that he breathes out more oxygen than he inhales! Impossible!"

"Yet it happens," Sirius replied with a smile. "As do things like apparition, flying broomsticks and magic in general," he went in for the kill.

"So that's why we never run out of breath when we snog," Hermione said absent-mindedly, blushing immediately when she realized she spoke it out loud.

Henry took a sharp breath in, his eyes pressed shut, firmly. "This information I could have lived without, pumpkin," he growled at her. Hermione tried to shrink deeper into the couch as he did, while Harry was questioning himself why he hadn't brought his cloak with him. On the other hand, demonstrating that object to Henry wouldn't have helped him, at all, in the current situation.

"Anyway, the only way that could happen was if there were some kind of photosynthesis in action, where he'd convert carbon dioxide into sugar or something. But he's not green, nor does he have any visible leaves," Sophie quipped, trying to steer the conversation away from that particular cliff.

"Magic?" Sirius asked, innocently, shrugging his shoulders.

"We won't get anywhere if you try to explain everything we don't know with magic," Sophie huffed, before pausing as she realized who she was talking to.

"Well, on the other hand," she relented. "Magisynthesis? Sounds awkward, but I can't rule it out," she replied, before mulling it over.

"Possible, but that would mean that a dragon would hardly need to eat," Hermione replied.

"I think it's time to get you a real teacher in Hogwarts," Sirius sighed. "They don't really need much food. Surprisingly little, in fact."

Henry sat up at that notion. "You mean they are like snakes, eating a big meal, then lying around and doing nothing?"

"No, they are quite active, they just don't eat much. Most of the time, they just fight each other or burn stuff for fun. Sounds funny, but it is that way. They do like to eat meat, and need a bit of it, especially while growing, but they can last extremely long without, only slowly getting weaker. Once or twice a year for adult ones, as far as I remember my lessons. Quite handy, for it would be very hard to keep them hidden in the reserves if you needed to get herds of cattle per day," Sirius explained to them.

"So they are huge, but don't need to eat?" Sophie asked, hu-humming loudly. "Sounds like you are right with that magisynthesis. Makes sense that such an impossible animal would only survive due to magic."

Henry had other priorities. "Yes, yes, interesting. But more important - how does that fire breathing work?"

"Am I being quizzed now? Feels like being in school, again," Sirius quipped.

"Phew, as far as I recall, they got this strange bladder underneath their lungs, that is filled with some flammable gas or liquid. That content differs for each dragon type. The Chinese Fireball actually has some dense mucus-like liquid, which causes him to spit a ball of flame instead of a jet, that fun thing got stuck in my mind, but that's all I remember," he recalled.

"Wow, that would be nasty in combination with high oxygen environment," Henry whistled.

"You bet! Can you say welding torch? Ethanol, butane, anything. Combine that with lots of oxygen and you can melt steel! The Chinese one sounded much like napalm to me," Sophie advocated her theory.

Henry was quite amused by all of this. "So, we already know that Harry can eat air, like a dragon. That naturally leads to one question - can you breathe fire, as well? This would be awesome!" Margret's gaze found him, immediately, and almost speared him.

"I mean, awful from a security standpoint, which every grown up adult should have in mind," Henry quickly pedalled back from his prior statement.

"Now, can you?" he asked, almost timidly.

"Please aim for the fireplace, pup," Sirius pleaded. "It took me a few days to get the room as clean as it is."

"I'm not doing this!" Harry protested, Henry was not letting him off that easy.

"Come on, be a sport!"

"In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. Light it up, pup," Sirius teased, joining forces with Henry over the issue.

"I'm going to light you up, if you keep teasing me," Harry threatened. "Help!" he pleaded to Hermione.

This time, he couldn't expect any help from her. "You know, normally, I'd be on your side, Harry, but right now, I'm quite worried that your kisses actually could set me on fire," Hermione replied warily. "The thought is not as pleasant if it actually involves fire, you know?" she said with a timid smile.

Harry sighed deeply. "Hey!" he shouted when Henry actually dove aside as he did so.

"Just being careful, your mouth was aimed at me when you did that!" Henry laughed playfully.

"FINE! I'll do it!" Harry shouted as he stood and went over to the fireplace. The world once more got that pink hue as he stomped into position five feet from the flame. Growling, he took a deep breath, and blew at the fire as hard as he could.

Margret dove into Henry's side with a shriek as the fire flared with a vengeance. Unnoticed by the others, Hermione curled up in her seat.

"Stop that!" Henry cried as the temperature in the room sky-rocketed, but Harry was already winding down.

"WHAT? You wanted fire, you get it. See?" Harry called out. "No fire breathing, just what we already knew," he huffed angrily.

"You didn't really try - you were just blowing," Henry protested. "Try with all your might!"

"Any tip? You seem to be the expert," Harry yelled, clearing his throat, as the pink intensified into a red hue.

Henry wanted to retort, but stopped himself. "Ok, ok! Alright! I'm sorry! I was out of line. Was getting overexcited," he apologized. "Didn't mean to put you under pressure."

"But you might be onto something, still," Harry croaked as he cleared his throat. "I'm tasting gasoline. Faint, but it's there. Nasty," he said as he spat into the fire. Much to his relief, and disappointment at the same time, it only fizzed, instead of flaring.

"Really? That is something - Sirius, you are the expert here - what do dragons do to breathe fire?" Henry asked, once again getting excited.

Sirius was just as clueless as all of them. For a moment, he was looking around helplessly, before he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, they just do it. I never asked one," he huffed.

"They roar," Hermione replied with a small voice from her spot on the couch. "They squint their eyes, take aim, and then they roar with all their might, while the fire lances out," she said, still curled up, shivering slightly as she stared straight through the wall across the room. Harry was at her side before anyone could blink. Hermione didn't react, but the others jumped when he moved so fast. In no time, her head was on his chest, and his hand stroking her hair, while her mother approached her.

"What is it, honey?" she said, softly touching her daughter's shoulder.

"I still can't forget these pictures when that Horntail tried to kill Harry. Some days, I even dream of it," Hermione whispered, digging deeper into Harry's chest.

"You're ok with this? We could let this be until later, or when you're not there, if the fire is bothering you," Henry asked, now also squatting next to his daughter.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm fine, that last test just triggered that memory. That book was right when it said that people never forget a dragon attack," she said as she sat up and took a deep breath.

"You see, Harry, I think that the key is the roar," she said, prim and proper, acting as if nothing had happened. Not that anybody would believe her act, right now.

"You sure? This isn't something to soldier on, you know," he replied, watching her carefully.

"No, I refuse to be scared of something as trivial as fire. I'm a witch - we have flame freezing charms that let us dance in the flames, for Merlin's sake!" she insisted sharply. "Go on, try again, but now with a yell as strong as you can," she said, trying to sound chirpy, but paused when an idea struck her.

"On second thought, I might move to a seat a bit further away," she said with a timid smile.

With a sigh, but a small smile, as well, Harry returned to his place in front of the fireplace.

Taking a deep breath, he yelled at the fire, but it only came out as a croak. For a moment, there was silence before everybody laughed out loud .

"At least you are having fun," he snorted, while he felt his cheeks tinge from embarrassment. "Honestly, this is the most stupid I felt in a long time," he chuckled. "Who would have thought it could be that hard to yell."

"Try imagining Snape in the fire, it might help," Sirius offered his advice.

"Snape? Hmmm. Oh, yes, that would work," Harry growled. He didn't need to search his mind for long until he found a proper image and motivation. "Ok, wait for it, here it comes."

"BLOOOOOODYYY GIIIIIIIIIT!" he screamed, with a round of raucous laughter ensuing at his choice of words. At first, there was nothing but sound leaving his throat, but this time, Harry felt something strange as he pushed his lungs as hard as he could.

He could feel a constricting feeling in his chest, and as he pushed a bit harder, it suddenly felt like something popped. Instantly, his breath became foggy. That effect lasted only a couple of moments, for as soon as this fog reached the fire, his whole breath caught fire. It was only a brief jet of flame, but it was intense. Intense enough for him to stop screaming in surprise.

The next sound was a loud pop when the flame followed the lingering gases, and shot into his mouth.

Moaning, Harry dropped to his knees, cringing and covering his mouth with his hands.

Hermione beat all others to their feet, and rushed to his help. "HARRY! Are you alright?" she screamed as she dropped to her knees next to him, pulling him up to look at him while he tried to cough a lung out.

"Immm phine," Harry lisped, moving his jaw in an exaggerated manner, before he spat out. "I vas surprised... stopped breathing..," he rasped, hacking up and spitting it out. Margret frowned at that, but said nothing. Having an explosion in your mouth was an acceptable excuse for such behaviour.

"Had the flame in my mouth for a brief moment. That was painful, I tell you," he croaked. "And it left a bad taste in my mouth, almost like gasoline soaked cat fur," Harry grumbled, making faces while he attempted to get rid of that taste. "I need to brush my teeth, but I'm fine," he insisted as Sirius waved his wand over him.

"Seems so, at least my spell agrees. No burns or anything, you got lucky," Sirius replied. A few wand movements later, he held out a glass of water to Harry. "Rinse, but don't drink, conjured," he noted, while Harry thankfully started gargling with it, spitting it into the fire.

"Next time, remember to keep breathing out while you cut the fire. Anyway, great show. Think you can do it again?" Sirius teased as he vanished the glass.

"Actually, that would be interesting," Sophie spoke up, after having hovered at the sideline for all the time. "In terms of capabilities and recuperation. At least we now know you can do it, but need a pilot flame."

"Aunt Sophie! Please! That's my boyfriend and no lab rat! We can do this later, if needed, but let him be, now!" Hermione shouted angrily.

Sophie raised her hands and backed off. "Fine with me, fine with me! Just don't hex me! Geez!"

"Thanks. I've had enough revelations for a day," Harry huffed as he pulled himself up to his feet.

"Suits me," Sirius replied. "I already saw you burning down my house in my mind. You know, this fire business means no more candles on your birthday cake for you, pup."

"That would be the second I ever got, Sirius, so I won't miss it," Harry replied sourly.

Sirius blanched as he heard this. "Well done, Sirius. Bringing up more stuff that hurts him. Sorry pup. I keep forgetting how bad you had it."

"You couldn't know, so no bad feelings. After all this, that stuff barely registers," Harry spoke as he sat back down at the couch, Hermione sliding into position next to him and cuddling into his side.

"True. I think this definitely qualifies as a 'hard day'," Sirius chuckled.

"You tell me," Harry replied tiredly. "At least I know a bit more about my state. Though I keep wondering why you, of all people, know so much about all that stuff."

Sirius playfully wound up to hit Harry. "Me, of all people? Shall I help you with your bad taste problem? I sure could find a piece of soap, somewhere, even if I have to conjure one up," he mocked his godson.

"I only voiced my curiosity," Harry grinned back.

"My bum you did! And honestly -Dragons? Who wouldn't read up everything he could on them? Especially in a house like this - there isn't much Winnie the Pooh to find here - if you want to pass your time, you have to do with what is available."

Harry had to laugh at that. "I'll give you that, but making chimeras and stuff? Quite peculiar taste you had as a kid, don't you think?"

"You might notice that there isn't a telly in this house - it was either obscure spell tomes or medieval minnesinger poems! That obscure stuff was my favourite bedtime lecture - there are some highly interesting stories of experiments in most of these books. I was fascinated by it as a kid. Parents were proud of me, talking about me becoming a proper alchemist!" Sirius recounted.

"That was before I found out what type they were," he sighed sadly.

"Alchemist? Like Dumbledore? What does this stuff have to do with it?" Hermione inquired.

"Oh, well - that stuff is alchemy. When it was banned, among other practises, alchemy died out, slowly. Not much left that wasn't covered in potions, anyway. Albus and Aberforth were promising stars before the final decline, Aberforth even got in trouble for it and expelled."

"Aberforth? I think I read about him in Hogwarts, a History," Hermione spoke up. "But wasn't he expelled for putting inappropriate spells on a goat?"

"Really? Now that's a way to ruin a reputation," Henry chuckled.

Sirius had to laugh along with Henry at her words. "In fact, he made a minor chimera out of a goat and something else for his NEWT project, using the other methods the book mentioned. Albus helped him, but Aberforth cast the spells, so Albus got away with only a stern warning."

Harry perked up, hearing this.

"Dumbledore knows about chimeras?" He growled, while the world regained that strange pink hue he already was becoming familiar with.

Sirius laughter died, immediately.

"Ahm, uh, yes. He's one of the few living people who actually made one by non-cross-breeding means," he stammered.

"So he probably knows what is happening to me, and chose not to tell me," Harry concentrated on the intrinsic truth, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Hermione sensed his posture getting rigid. Almost out of reflex, she started petting his arm and cooing into his ear, helping him keeping his temper.

Sirius blanched slightly when he saw Harry getting mad, trying to talk himself out of that situation. "Knowing what I know now, I think there is pretty much no way he wouldn't at least guessed what has happened. Sorry pup, that's how he is. He always keeps things to himself. As there is nothing you can do about that stuff, I'm wondering why he did. Makes no sense. But you know, if it weren't that urgent, he'd probably never have told James and Lils about that prophecy, either, for some 'spare them the burden' crap."

Harry laughed dark and raspy. "Oh, don't I know... Wait, what prophecy?" He suddenly asked when his mind caught up.

"The one for which they went into hiding," Sirius replied pertly. "Do you know another one?"

"For the record, I know the one that Wormtail would escape and join Voldemort, which I was told right before we went and got goaded into the Shrieking Shack by someone, but that's the only one I heard of," Harry hissed back, with Hermione clinging to his arm, trying her best to get him to calm down.

Sirius stared at Harry with an expression of utter shock. "You mean, he didn't... Remus didn't? Arthur? No one? Wow... Just... Wow..."

"That bad?" Harry sighed, in a disheartened tone, rolling his eyes in anger. "Of course it is, why bother asking," he huffed.

"Depends. It doesn't change your situation much, I believe," Sirius gave a vague reply. "Sure you can take it, now? Or should we leave this for later?"

"Better be done with it. It's not as if this day could get any crappier," Harry snarled, burying his face in his hands. "Shoot."

Sirius took a deep breath as he readied himself. "I don't know the exact words, anymore, but it was about a boy being born at the end of July, who would have a power the Dark Lord knows not. He would be marked by him, which means that your scar proves that you are the one the prophecy spoke about. And one of you will die at the hand of the other."

All eyes were riveted to Harry, who sat motionless, his face still hidden behind his hands. After a few seconds, Hermione couldn't take it any longer, and softly shook his arm. "Harry?"

She was pushed away as he stood without warning. "I need a bit of time alone," he whispered, and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry stormed down the stairs, not really knowing where he went or why, but he just had the feeling he had to keep on moving, or he would explode.

When he reached the ground floor, he knew he would, no matter what. Everything inside of him screamed for to grab Dumbledore and rip him into small pieces. Pacing wildly, Harry tried to blow some steam, but all he managed was to stumble over that troll foot umbrella stand, which he could have sworn had moved in to trip him.

With a painful thump, Harry hit the dusty carpet. Hitting the floor with his fists in frustration, he jumped up, screaming out his frustration.

Harry had almost forgotten about the portrait behind those curtains, but he was instantly reminded of its existence when the very same shot aside with a snap, exposing the portrait.

It took only a second for the old witch to recognize the person in its vicinity.

"FILTHY MUGGLE LOVER!" she yelled at Harry, who took no time to scream back.

"SHUT UP!"

Of course, she didn't, but continued, at even increased volume. "HAVE YOU NO SHAME? BRINGING THESE MUGGLE WHORES INTO THESE ANCIENT HALLS!"

The tinge to Harry's vision intensified a few shades as she said that. Without noticing, his breath quickened as he growled so guttural that it sounded like a series of clicks. Flexing his hands involuntarily, he stepped a bit closer, yelling again for her to shut up.

Instead of doing as commanded, the painting was highly satisfied that she had found the weak spot of her target. She accused him of sullying his blood by 'fornicating with these animals', getting another rise out of him.

Harry was livid. That insult was bad enough to make him jump at her, grabbing her frame. Tearing at it, he tried to pull her off the wall. She laughed shrill at him and his useless attempt, telling him that no filthy muggle-lover could ever take her down, while the curtains whipped around and beat him from all sides.

That was when he glared at her, displaying his eyes in a way she couldn't miss. The effect was profound. She recoiled deeper into her painting, her face almost transforming as her disgust became even more visible, before she started to scream at him with renewed vigor.

"NON-HUMAN! BEAST! GET YOUR PAWS OFF ME, YOU FILTHY ANIMAL! KREACHER! GET THIS CREATURE OUT OF MY HOUSE, AND HIS BEAST-BOFFING MUGGLE WHORES, AS WELL!"

_**ooOOoo**_

Upstairs, everyone was sitting around awkwardly, not quite sure what to say, until they heard Harry screaming. Wincing almost in unison, they cringed even more when another voice joined in.

Sirius stared massaging his temples when that happened. "Way to go, mum," he sighed.

"I don't know," Margret piped up. "Shouldn't we go down and intervene?"

Sirius shrugged. "Dunno. At least he now has someone to vent at. Mother is quite good in riling people up, and he certainly can use the opportunity to get it out of his system," he theorized as the screams got louder.

The theory got thrown out of the window when the banging started. All five sat up straight as they could hear what sounded like a series of hammer blows. Hermione was the one to start the race for the door when the female screams changed into a pitched wailing.

Jerking the door open, she, and all others, heard a female voice scream for Kreacher to help her at a volume they'd thought impossible, while they could hear crashes, interrupted by angry shouts of Harry, and a strange noise that sounded like rain pattering.

Hermione barely had to round the banister to see what happened.

The whole group was paralysed with shock as they stared down into the entry hall, which was filled with clouds of dust.

Still, they saw Harry screaming bloody murder as his fists pumped like a machine, digging his way through the portrait of Sirius' mother, his fist causing deep holes in the wall, spraying the whole room with rock debris.

Within a few seconds, the painting stopped crying, while Harry started to scream, without stopping to pummel the wall into submission. By this time, some of his punches were already going clean through of what was left of the wall.

The group still stared in utter shock as with a groan, the whole wall caved in, and buried Harry in an avalanche of rubble.

**AN:**

Well, another chapter done, and a few mysteries solved. Seems the time spent at home when I was snowed in for three days (3-4 ft of snow) was well invested. On the fun side, it took me 15 hours with a wheel loader to dig my way out to the street.

My eternal thanks to alix and embi for their support.


	15. With a bang

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 14: With a bang**

The voices came back first.

"That should hold, at least for now," he could hear Henry speak, off to his right, about something he didn't understand.

"He seems fine, even his hands," Margret spoke, from somewhere near his hips. "It's only dermal abrasions, but the bones are intact," she said, flexing Harry's hands this and that way, which did hurt for some reason Harry couldn't fathom.

He became aware that he was lying on his back, and from the feel of it, Hermione was caressing his head. His nose seemed clogged with dust, and realizing that triggered the urge to sneeze.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out happily when he did so. Groaning, he started blinking his eyes, slowly sitting up. Almost instantly, she was hanging around his neck.

"Look who's back again," Sirius called out. "How do you feel?"

"Like a punching bag. Headache. What happened?" Harry groaned, petting Hermione's back while he looked around in amazement. The room looked devastated, rubble everywhere, dust hanging in the air. His head was killing him, and his hands burned like hell.

His question was obviously stupid enough to warrant Hermione releasing him and slapping his shoulder.

"You demolished a wall, and it caved in on you, you dolt!" She chided him, furiously.

"And a good portion of the ceiling. Almost brought the house down. Thank Merlin that wall wasn't load-bearing," Sirius remarked, treating the lump on Harry's forehead. Harry raised his head to see a gaping hole in the wall, and ceiling, just as Sirius had told him. There were some wooden beams there, which seemed out of place. It took Harry a moment to realize that they were held across the ceiling by upright beams to support what hadn't caved in, yet.

"Henry's idea - I levitated the beams, he put the pillars under. I think it will hold up, for now, until I can read up some masonry spells. This is beyond a _Reparo_ spell," Sirius said with an almost amused shake of his head when he noticed Harry's confusion.

"Let's take care of your hands, you did a number on your knuckles," he spoke, starting to wave his wand over the split skin, knitting it together, while Harry still gazed at the hole.

"And for future reference - try demolishing the next house from the outside. You might be amazingly strong, but a brick to the head still knocks you out just as well as any of us," he said as he was done.

Harry pressed his palms to his eyes, rubbing the dust out of them. Meanwhile, Sophie couldn't help but to comment.

"It's almost unbelievable, when I saw you punching that wall, I was sure you'd have shattered every bone in your hands. But there you are, fit to play the piano!"

Harry cleared his throat, noisily, spitting out a brownish wad of brick dust. "Might be fun to learn. Why the hell did I... Bugger! Sirius, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." He suddenly rambled, trying to apologize as the memory came back.

Sirius laughed it off, and put his hand on his godson's shoulder. "Harry, if I knew that you could do this, I'd have introduced you to that hag, like, immediately. I had already tried every spell I knew and a few that I read up upon, and still wasn't able to get her unstuck from that wall. Seems the enchantments didn't account for massive physical violence. What exactly did she do to get you to freak out?"

"She said some... Things... About Hermione... And... " Harry said, hanging his head low. "I should have ignored it, but this was just too much, and all I remember was everything turning red and hazy... And then I woke up here."

"You get bonus points for realizing, yourself, that this reaction was well over the top," Henry spoke. "Even though it was a crappy week for you, one should never let things come to the point of violence and destruction, right?"

Harry nodded, deep in thought. Sophie was equally thoughtful.

"Don't be too hard on him, Granger. I think I do owe you an apology, Harry. I was so deep in science mode that I didn't realize how hard a time I gave you. I'm really sorry."

Harry waved her off. "It's ok, I had worse."

"Doesn't make it right," Sophie insisted.

"Oh come on," Sirius stepped in. "Stop whining, everybody. A teenager had a tantrum, broke some things. Nothing uncommon. Nothing that a few spells can't fix. Again, thanks for removing that painting."

"So you really aren't angry?" Harry asked, his voice .

Sirius was smiling as if Christmas had come early. "No, why should I be?"

"She was your mother!" Hermione pressed out.

A loud laugh was the first reply she got. "Wow, felt good to laugh without being screamed at. Hermione, that was not my mother. She's dead for a decade. That was a piece of enchanted canvas, imbued with a simulation of her, at her worst. It was a constant reminder how horrible she had become. I would rather remember the kinder person she was, occasionally. I'm not sorry, at all, that she managed to wake the dragon. Don't we all know to not tickle a sleeping one?"

"Huh? Who would tickle a sleeping dragon?" Margret asked, confused.

"That's the school motto, mum. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," Hermione replied. "Don't ask, no one knows the origin."

"Sounds like a story that would start with, 'You know, that night, someone had a wee bit too much ale...'," Henry chuckled behind them.

"Don't they all? Like that story where Frank beat you to the cup and ended up with his tattoo?" Sophie replied.

"You know what - that gives me an idea," Henry beamed.

Margret growled, dangerously. "You are not getting a tattoo," she addressed her husband.

Henry stared at her for a moment, not comprehending what she was referring to. "What? No, not that - although it would look great," he replied, withering under his wife's hardening glare. "I meant that Harry obviously could need a vent. Why don't I take you out on the range, son? Some clay pigeon shooting would do you good, and we could get to know each other a bit better," he proposed, his wife again proving her ancestry of Hermione with the all too familiar roll of eyes.

"Sounds interesting," Harry said with his first true smile that day. Sirius sounded equally interested.

"Clay pigeon shooting?"

Henry brightened up, instantly, when he could talk about his favourite sport. "Yes, you got a... an... Well, let's call it a catapult, for a lack of better word, that throws clay disks into the air, and you try to shoot them out of the sky with a shotgun."

"With a gun? Sounds fun - I always wanted to know how these things work," Sirius admitted.

"You know what? Why don't we go there, together? Like now?" Henry proposed. "The kids said you'd probably not want to go to Diagon Alley for lunch, and we got a restaurant at the club. The club's barely ten miles from here. We could swing by our home, so I could grab my gun and stuff, and we'd be out at the club before noon! Diagon Alley will be there, another day, as well, but the weather's fine today, and I don't know the forecast," he babbled, excited as Ron at the Quidditch World Cup.

Margret sighed. "Please lea..." She started, but stopped when Sophie elbowed her in the ribs.

"Great idea, it would be lovely to have lunch at the club, don't you think? Maybe tomorrow, we've already got a table at an Afghan restaurant. On that note, I think we should get going, I just need to visit the bathroom, quickly," she overrode any complaint.

"Sounds like a plan to me. Second floor, to the left," Sirius replied, automatically.

"Thanks. Gretty, join me? I suppose it's better to not go alone," she spoke, softly, but her eyes told Margret that this was a command, not a plea.

"Hermione also piped up. "I'll join, you, too. Also, we need to fetch our stuff from the room," she proposed, rushing after them.

As soon as the womenfolk was out of sight, Sirius spoke up. "I know that you don't know nothing about it, pup, but you are in with them, aren't you?" He accused Henry.

"Me?" the man replied innocently. "No, although I picked up on it pretty quick. Just be careful, she's not as tough as she seems. Had some pretty bad luck with men. Would really bother me if I had to shoot you," Henry replied.

"You realize you threaten everybody with shooting?" Harry quipped.

"Says the boy who is carrying a concealed lethal weapon on him. How many times have you or Hermione said 'Don't make me hex you', lately?" Henry replied, dripping with sarcasm.

Harry drew a face in reply. "Point taken. Still, what is going on here?"

"You didn't realize? It's not as if wasn't blatantly obvious, she was never the subtle type," Henry chuckled.

"Such an innocent angel, our Harry, isn't he? See, pup - Hermione's mum is playing Cupid, here. I don't think Sophie was in, at first - she seemed genuine, but she's playing the willing accomplice, now. Not that I mind. She's kind of my type," Sirius replied with a warm smile.

"She's a lot like Lily, or Hermione, once she grows up a little. Feisty, intelligent and knows what she wants."

"So your type is my mother and my girlfriend. Great, could have lived without that knowledge," Harry huffed. "Shht, they're coming back," he cut off Sirius' remark.

"You guys ready to head out?" Sophie tweeted as she led the parade of smiling women down the grand staircase.

"We've been born ready," Henry replied.

"My biology degree disagrees strongly, Granger," Sophie snarked back. "Let's get going, then," she commanded.

Margret fetched Henry by the elbow, leading him away. Hermione acted similarly, slinging her arm around Harry's waist as she followed. Harry couldn't help but smile as he was led after her parents.

Left behind, Sophie gave Sirius an amused smile. Sirius laughed out loud and offered her his arm, as well, following the other two couples.

_**ooOOoo**_

"That's going to be a tight fit, didn't think of that," Henry said, scratching his head as the group of six stood next to the car.

"I could sit on Harry's lap," Hermione proposed, trying to sound innocent.

Her mother smirked at her in reply. "First, that's not safe, second, that wouldn't be very comfortable for Harry, third, good try," she said as she patted her daughter's shoulder.

"Could you guys cover me from sight for a moment?" Sirius asked with a smile.

"Huh?" Henry replied, a bit confused by the request.

"I'd like to adjust the space in the car a bit, so we would all fit, but you'd need to stand around me so no one sees me wave that thing around," he said, pulling his wand slightly out of his jacket pocket.

Henry eyed him warily. "Adjust... The space? You aren't going to hurt my car, are you?"

Sirius was quite amused by that concern. "Don't panic, I'm just going to stretch the space inside the back a bit, so we would all fit properly. That doesn't do anything to the car, at all."

"But... Not... How?" Henry stuttered when Sirius assaulted his world view with a sledgehammer.

"Don't ask, Dad. There are many books written about this. Once I'm done with school, I'm going to study physics and will try to find a way to incorporate magic in the theories we know, but for now, I'm just going along with a two universe theory, and a lot of shrugging," Hermione explained.

"Come on, we haven't got all day," Sophie commandeered, pulling Margret into a screening position. Harry immediately joined them, with Henry having no choice but to follow group pressure. It was more than obvious that he didn't trust that procedure one bit as Sirius started conducting an invisible orchestra next to his car.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I still can't wrap my head around it," Henry lamented for the hundredth time as he looked in the mirror. "If you'd at least look blurry or something, but you look alright."

"Thanks, I guess," Sirius replied, evasively. He had given up on explaining. Henry just couldn't understand how he had enlarged only the back seat by half, not touching the rest of the interior, and Sirius was running out of easy explanations.

The first few times, it had been fun, but now it was obviously a waste of time. Besides, he was far more interested in the current discussion going on on the back seats. Harry had foolishly commented on the perfumes accumulating in the tight space of the car, and Sophie was less than pleased to be called out on it.

It reminded him of a heated discussion that ended in hexes, after Remus had done the same to some Ravenclaw girls in fifth year, a few weeks before their OWLs.

Harry stopped mid-sentence when Sirius slapped his forehead without warning.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, a bit concerned about the cause for such behaviour.

"Another slap, maybe, for being an idiot," Sirius laughed. "And no, not by you, thank you."

"And whom would you like to administer it, and where to?" Sophie tweeted innocently from his side.

Sirius' smile evaporated as he started to blush, and stammer his way out of this.

He finally gave up after everybody else was roaring with laughter, and just laughed along.

"Anyway, I just realized that we both know someone who could help you with your self-control issues. He's been taming the wolf for decades, he certainly could help you with your fiery lizard temper, right?" Sirius said after some sort of order was reinstated.

Hermione beamed at Sirius. "You mean Professor Lupin? Of course, why didn't I think of that. He would be great, wouldn't he, Harry?"

"I guess, he is a great teacher, after all," Harry replied.

Margret wasn't quite sure she was up to date. "A teacher? Taming wolves? Quite a peculiar hobby, I say."

She was quite perturbed when the wizarding part of their group started laughing again, but now at her.

"No, mum. Not wolves, the wolf. You see, he is a werewolf," Hermione explained.

"You're kidding us, right?" Henry gasped, almost hitting a parked car as he briefly lost control of the car. Swerving wildly, he brought it back under his control, cursing softly.

"No, Remus is indeed a werewolf, and apart from one night per month, where he locks himself in to keep people safe, he is quite a well-adjusted man. Or a bore, as I'd say," Sirius elaborated on Hermione's info dump.

"So they do exist? Great. I guess that means that I need to melt some cutlery for bullets, right? Should I carve me some wooden ones, too, while I'm at it?" Henry ranted along, in a bad mood because of his near miss with a Volkswagen.

Sirius hesitated but a second before he replied. "No, there's no need for that," he replied, but immediately destroyed Henry's hopes with his follow-up.

"They are far too fast to be hit, I'd say. Wizards use light spells and area-effective flame spells to deal with them. Nasty buggers never really got hold on the isles, though. Good thing, too. Having to kill on a nightly basis doesn't make them too social, you'd reckon."

"There goes my sleep," Sophie muttered.

_**ooOOoo**_

The next morning, the Grangers' doorbell rang at eleven, sharp.

"Hello, Sirius," Margret greeted upon opening the door. "Come in. Did you have a good... Teleport?"

Sirius chuckled at the strange small talk. "Yes, the void was surprisingly empty, no jams, at all."

"Must be handy to never run late."

"Well, you can still be late, you still can't be there before you depart," Sirius replied while he hung his jacket.

"This might be a silly question, but why didn't you just appear in our living room? I almost expected you to do that."

"Two reasons, first, that is considered rude. Unless told to do so, one does not simply apparate into a house. And most important, I never have been there, so I couldn't. Apparition by coordinates should be restricted to outdoor locations. Re-appearing at the same spot as a table is not a pleasant experience, you recon."

Margret wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't sound like it. Come in, Sophie's here, already."

"I'm still not sure if I should thank you or hex you," Sirius smirked as he followed her.

Margret was unimpressed. "Considering how well you got along yesterday, you owe me a car, at least," she retorted.

"Hello everybody," Sirius cried out as they entered the living room.

"Henry should be ready any minute, he's fetching his stuff," Margret announced grumpily after all greetings had been exchanged.

"No problem, we do have things to discuss, anyway. Harry, I owled Remus, and he agreed to help you. He even took a week off from work, so from Saturday on, you two got nine days to work out a way to get a hold on your temper. He thinks that this should be enough to teach you some basic self-restraint techniques. What do you think?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hey, Granger," some man cried out the moment they had walked past one of the ivy-overgrown brick houses of the club, which looked like an old country estate. It probably was one, Harry realized at this thought.

"Having a day with the family?" The man asked as he approached them, shaking hands with Margret, Sophie and Hermione, immediately.

"Yes, Frank," Margret replied, before the man interrupted her with a realization. "Sophie, about time you found yourself a man," he quipped. "Frank O'Dougal," he introduced himself, nodding at the reply from Sirius, and getting distracted, again.

"Oh, even Hermione brought her boyfriend," he cried out, loud enough to have the whole club hear it. "What a brave lad, daring to date Henry's daughter. How bad was he?"

"Absolutely terrifying," Harry replied in a joking tone. Hermione and Margret couldn't help to snigger.

"Yes, our Henry is quite the protective father," the man spoke, before reaching out to shake hands.

"Nice, firm handshake, lad. I appreciate that in a young man. You look quite fit, what's your sport?"

"No sport you'd know. The only way to get the boy to move is to put a broom in his hands," Sirius chuckled, while Harry stared at him in shock. When Hermione laughed out loud, he altered his shocked into a betrayed expression and targeted her, instead.

"He grew up to this, almost overnight," she added her own teasing.

"Many lads do, they grow like weed, don't they? So, Granger, brought them here to let them get a taste of the noble sport?"

"Obviously," Henry spoke, pointing out his clothing and the gun slung over his shoulder. "So if you'd excuse us," he said, pushing forward, leaving Frank behind.

"Us girls will have some tea while you guys play, ok? Have fun," Margret spoke. She only slightly raised an eyebrow when Hermione followed the men. She rolled her eyes when Sophie followed the men along the gravel path, as well.

"I'll be at the bar," she huffed, stomping off.

"What is it with her?" Sirius inquired carefully with Sophie.

"Gretty sucks at shooting. She can't hit a thing, and has even lost hold of the gun, occasionally."

"And you?" Sirius asked bluntly, smiling at her.

"Same as Hermione. We can score a hit, but get bruised all over," Sophie replied. "Henry always says that is because the gun's stock is made for a tall man, and thus doesn't fit us well, but I think he's just polite. But still, we both enjoy watching, to a degree. And with you two, we might even have someone to laugh at."

"Excuse me if I hope to not wind up as a source of amusement," Sirius huffed as they approached a wide, open field in the woods, with some small cage-like structures placed in a large rough circle in the middle, and a berth of dirt running around the clearing. Some people were standing at one side, shooting at targets that Harry could see flying over their heads.

"Come on, this is it," Henry said as they approached a series of cages on a gravelled patch. "Hermione, would you go for the buttons - I guess we start with teal, and maybe later, we do rabbit, ok?"

Hermione nodded and stepped forward to retrieve a box with cables running out of it, stepping aside and back when Henry took his place in one of the cages.

Casually pulling some red cartridges out of his pocked, Henry flipped the gun open and inserted them into the barrels. Another flip, and the gun was, closed, ready and at his shoulder.

"Pull!" he yelled, and with a whirring sound, Harry noticed a brightly orange disc being launched from somewhere at his right. A fraction of a second later, the gun spoke, and the disc broke up in a dozen pieces.

"WOW!" Sirius yelled. "Those things are loud!"

Hermione huffed. "Explosions do that, Sirius."

"Those things explode?" Sirius gasped, eyeing the gun warily.

Henry pulled a cartridge out of his pocket. "No, these things do. The hammer hits the brass end, a bit of gun powder explodes and that pushes a handful of lead balls out of that end. The barrels direct them in the right direction," he explained, pointing out the parts of the ammunition.

"And that they do well - I barely noticed the target when it suddenly was gone," Sirius replied.

Henry nodded with a smile before he turned around, again. "Pull," he yelled.

This time, the disc came from the other side, and was gone just as quickly. Casually, Henry flicked the gun open, and the spent shells jumped out at him. He absent-mindedly caught them with his right hand, threw them aside in the same motion, and inserted two new ones he retrieved from his pocket.

"Now a double, pumpkin," he told Hermione. "She times them perfectly, no computer would be that precise," he told the others.

"Pull," he yelled, and another disc was sent flying. The moment it was shot out of the sky, another emerged from the other side. Henry gave it the short shrift, as well. Again, he casually caught the shells jumping out of the gun, tossing them aside.

"Merlin, you are unbelievably fast - I barely even saw the second one," Sirius remarked.

"Long practice. I'm one of the better ones at the club," Henry replied.

Harry chuckled. "With a long row of trophies in his office, Sirius," he informed his godfather.

"Club champion is the word he was looking for," Sophie agreed. "Don't be too intimidated. He always shows off and tells you he's no big thing, I think he even makes bets with guests that don't know him," she smirked.

Harry would have sworn he heard Henry grumble "Just that one time," under his breath.

"Come on, Harry, your turn," Henry said, waving him over to the cage.

Boldly, Harry stepped forward and into the cage. Henry stepped up next to him and gave him the open gun. Taking it, Harry chuckled. "It's a lot lighter than I expected."

"Yes, it's modified - I had the stock replaced by a lighter one, it is shy under six and a half pounds in total. Swings around better, but kicks harder," Henry explained. "Others say it's too whippy, but I can handle it."

"Put these in the barrels, brass side out," he told Harry, handing him two cartridges.

Harry refrained from commenting that he wasn't stupid, especially as the brass side had a rim and wouldn't have fitted in, anyway. He just put them in and found that it was quite easy to close the gun, which snapped shut with a crisp click.

"Ok," Henry spoke as he stepped behind Harry. "Put it firmly here," he said as he positioned the butt on Harry's shoulder. "Now, keep the barrels down until you're ready. When you are, yell 'pull', and the clay comes flying from over there. You got two triggers for the barrels, the second one pulls a good bit harder. You see the front sight? If you see the pin, and a bit of the dome, the gun is level, and will hit where the pin is," he explained the mechanics. "You think you're good?"

Harry nodded. _'Just how hard can it be'_, he thought, taking a deep breath and yelling "Pull!"

The clay came flying, and his seeker reflexes immediately had him on target. He pulled the trigger, and a huge boom sounded, and his shoulder felt like a Bludger collided with it. The clay was unimpressed by the noise, and happily continued its trajectory, mockingly spinning along.

"Whoa, Harry, what did that poor clay do to you that it deserved both barrels?"Henry laughed, along with all others, while Harry rolled his aching shoulder.

"I underestimated my strength," he moaned. "That was brutal."

"Now that you know, pull softer. And try leading a bit, seems you aimed true. You need to aim at where the clay will be, like, half a second later. Give it a foot or so, two diameters of the clay, I'd say," Henry told him, holding out two new rounds.

"Push that lever aside to open," he advised as Harry looked helplessly at the gun.

Harry did so, and the spent cartridges jumped out at him as the gun opened. Truly a Seeker, Harry caught them, and very quickly dropped them, again. "They're hot!" he complained, shaking his hand, under the laughter of Sirius and Sophie. Hermione was trying to keep a straight face, hiding her amusement by acting as if she'd been watching the surroundings all the time.

"Of course they are, what did you think? Took me some time to get used to it, but if you toss them quickly enough, it's ok. Now push them aside with your foot, accidents happen when people slipped on them," Henry laughed.

Harry grumbled, but did so, before taking the new red rounds from Henry.

"Pull," he yelled a few moments later, louder than necessary, his vision growing slightly pink. This time, the clay seemed to fly much slower, but he heeded Henry's advice. Even though to him, it only crawled across the sky, he aimed a bit ahead, and pulled the trigger softly. The bang was smaller, the recoil hit his shoulder with a much more agreeable force, and the clay disintegrated. Harry growled pleased as he saw it.

"Good one! Now, try another one."

"Pull!" Harry cried out, swivelling around, and shooting.

Henry whistled low when the clay split in half as it was clipped by a lead pellet. "The speed you move is scary - it was hardly flying when you shot it. But lucky - a good hit would have broken it up, better."

Harry shrugged. To him, it had been airborne for ages. He opened the gun and swatted the jumping cartridges aside.

After another string of hits and misses, Harry slowly got the hang of it. It was different from a wand, but quite a lot easier. He soon found out that even though to him, the clays flew slow, they were moving at speed. Enough that he had to aim ahead, or he would surely miss, even though he could clearly see that the pellets had spread out to a roughly one foot wide cloud of lead.

When they switched to 'Rabbits', things got interesting. The bouncing discs were much harder to hit than the predictable flying ones. After ten tries, Henry called for a break.

"Six out of ten, not bad. How do you feel?" he asked as he took the gun from Harry.

Harry had to think about it, actually. His heart was beating, his shoulder hurt a bit, and his ears were ringing. The sharp stench of the gunpowder was assaulting his nose, but now, as he didn't had to concentrate on a target, anymore, his mouth split into a smile, almost immediately.

"Yeah, I know, lad," Henry softly spoke when he saw Harry's face. "Was the same for me. And? Stress gone?"

Again, Harry had to think about his response. "I feel great," he cried as he stepped out of the shooter's cage, and on impulse, dashed over to grab Hermione and spun her around.

"Let Sirius try," Sophie cried from behind, pushing Sirius forward, while Hermione squealed in the carousel ride she was treated to.

"Come on, don't be shy," Henry spoke as Sirius hesitated.

Five minutes later, Sirius was in the cage, and Henry on the button.

Five seconds later, Sirius was protesting.

"These things really hurt," he said as he rolled his shoulder. Should I put a cushioning charm on it?"

"No. I like it that way," Henry replied without pause. "Tried low recoil ammo, once, and it was not for me. I prefer feeling the gun."

"Whatever flies your broom," Sirius replied, grumbling, but getting back into position. "Pull!"

Again, the clay finished its flight undisturbed, only shattering on impact on the ground.

"Use the sight - I could see you firing instinctively," Henry chided.

"Habit - wands don't have sights. Feels strange to use both hands, as well," Sirius replied. Pushing the lever, he broke the gun open, just as he had watched Henry and Harry do before.

Lacking Harry's speed and reflexes, and Henry's muscle memory, the result was obvious.

_**ooOOoo**_

"You've been lucky - I once saw a girl that got one _into _her shirt. Now that did hurt, I'd reckon by the way she screamed," he laughed as he patted Sirius' shoulder. "Better hold it to the side, and button up your jacket fully, next time, ok?" he chuckled.

"Stuff it," Sirius barked at the others, who were currently almost lying all over the camping table behind them, laughing tears; while he closed the top buttons.

"Did you squeal the same when that Salamander got you?" Sophie pressed out under bouts of laughter.

For a moment, Sirius considered dignifying her with a reply, but then he simply turned around and stomped back into the cage he had hopped out before. "Give me some more ammunition," he growled. Henry smiled as he handed the cartridges over. He knew very well when things had become personal.

Sirius missed the next one, but the second one he got perfectly square. After another couple of tries, with about the same hit rate, Henry treated him to the first double. Sirius got the first, but didn't even see the second. That pattern repeated two more times.

"They are too fast," he complained. "If I get the first, I barely see the second, and if I watch out for the second, I miss the first."

Henry smiled at him as he did so. "You see, that is why it is a sport, if it were easy, you would call it a game, wouldn't you?"

"True, true," Sirius replied, lost in thought. "Say, do you know if one could get a smaller, mobile version of those launchers?"

Henry didn't miss a beat before answering. "I guess, there are some suppliers – those things aren't exactly complicated high-tech, why? It's hard to find an area you could use it, anyway, you know? Firing a gun and all. You could just as well get a membership for the club here – it's not that expensive."

Sirius had been staring at the gun, absent-mindedly, the whole time. "No, while the sport is fun, I have a different idea," he said, finally emptying the gun and kicking the shells aside. "That thing could help me to get me back in shape with a wand, you see?"

Hermione was intrigued by that idea. "Great idea, that would be a very good training tool - why didn't I come up with it?"

Instead of an answer, Harry pulled her closer, cuddling her, knowing too well not to touch such a loaded question.

Sirius was still in thought. "Are they electric?" He asked, returning the gun to Henry, who opened it again, peered through the barrels, and then slung the open gun over his shoulder.

"Some are, some are mechanic, but those are usually single shots you need to reload. We should head back. We can talk during lunch, Margret's waiting on us," he replied, heading for the camping table. "You folks ok with that?"

After a round of nods and approving sounds, he smiled. "Well then, chop-chop. I'll quickly stow the gun in the car, you guys just get in and pry Margret off the bar," he proposed, setting off in a jog, while the others followed at a more sedate place.

Walking next to Sirius, Sophie drew a face. "I bet she got one of these gross Manhattans, again."

Sirius swallowed the bait. "You don't like them?"

"You bet, that stuff is vile. Give me a dry Martini, a Gin Fizz, or even some straight Vermouth, but that Rye Whisky gives me an ogreish hangover."

Sirius smirked evilly. "No problem for me – I know a potion that cures a hangover with a single sip," he gloated.

Sophie almost stumbled as she lost a step in surprise. "Really?" she gasped.

"No kidding. Tastes vile, but better than the hangover. Chug it, and you'll be fine, just don't hesitate, trust me. But you need to plan ahead, it only lasts for a few days, and you can't make it while hung over," Sirius replied with a frown, before opening the door to the club for her.

"That complicated?" Sophie asked as she gratefully stepped through.

"Naw, it smells that bad – can't go near it when I'm crawsick."

Harry and Hermione both stopped dead in their tracks as they stared at Sirius, who smiled back innocently.

**AN:**

Once more, my thanks the people who help me with this, alix33 and embirsephonelilathia. And a special guest mention to goku90504, who did a fair share of typo-tracking, as well.

Don't expect the updates to come as quickly as the last ones, for I had lots of spare time for writing, with the weather keeping me indoors (except for the frantic work to save what isn't yet destroyed when ever the weather changes from one extreme to the other...)


	16. Back to what we're used to

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 15: Back to what we're used to...**

Hermione was surprised to see Winky opening the door of twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Winky! Good to see you!"

"Good morning, Miss Granger, Master Black is not being at home, currently. Should Winky take a message for him," the petite elf replied with a sketched curtsy. Immediately afterwards, she turned around to glance at Kreacher, who was standing in the hallway. When the old elf wordlessly turned and walked away, Winky brightened up.

Hermione stifled a snort when she saw this. Kreacher was obviously a very strict teacher.

"I want to visit with Harry," she replied benevolently, playing along.

"Master Potter be sleeping, now," Winky replied, unsure of how to deal with the situation.

Remus' voice from behind saved her from having to make a decision. "It's ok,Winky. Miss Granger is a friend who is always welcome in this house."

Relieved, Winky held the door open to let Hermione enter.

"Thank you, Winky. Good morning, Professor Lupin."

Remus laughed, gently. "Again, it's just Remus, Hermione, just Remus. I'm not your Professor anymore."

Hermione accepted with a shy smile. "Harry's still asleep? It's almost eleven!"

"Bear with the boy, Hermione. The last two days have been exhausting for him. I couldn't get him to stop until three in the morning."

"I should have been there for him," Hermione stated.

Remus shook his head. "We've been through this - he needs to learn to get by without you as his crutch. While you are a good calming influence, he has to learn the signs and how to deal with them," he said.

"Doesn't mean that I like it. Where's Sirius?"

"Frankly, I don't know, but I believe a certain Miss McAlister might know."

"Who?"

"Your honorary aunt? Sophie McAlister?" Remus tried to bring his point across.

"Oh, her name is Alistair, not McAlister," Hermione corrected him. "But why should she know?" She asked, realizing how stupid that question was, the moment she had uttered it. "You mean... Oh..."

Remus shrugged. "I'm not implying anything, I merely noted that they left together two days ago, and I haven't seen them, since."

Hermione drew a face. "Must be a different reason. Aunt Sophie isn't that kind!"

"I never said so. Anyway, it was good they were away. Harry really gave me a hard time when we started," Remus said with an amused shake of his head.

Hermione gasped when a change in the light while he had shaken his head revealed a tinge on his left cheek. "Prof.. um... Remus, is that what I think it is," she asked.

"Huh? What is what?" Remus reacted a bit confused at her inquiry, and sudden change of topic.

He realized what she referred to, once she pointed towards his cheek.

"Oh, that! He accidentally hit me yesterday, when he lost control, badly. I didn't know it was still there," he said, feeling up his cheek.

"Don't worry," he quickly said when Hermione's reaction was horrified. "It was an accident, my fault - I approached him while he had a tantrum, and he clipped me while throwing a chair. Knocked me into the dining table. Still, it helped him, seeing that his rage could harm people he likes. Totally worth it, especially since one of the few benefits of my state is that I don't have to worry about such small blemishes."

"Small? He hit you with a chair!"

"No, he accidentally hit me when I rushed at him, while he was picking up a chair to throw at the wall. My fault, I thought he was done."

"What could compel him to throw a chair?"

Remus smiled at her in a boyish way. "Girlfriend troubles," he replied.

Hermione's face fell, and instantly, she glared at him for bursting into laughter.

"Sorry, couldn't resist. We were going through the last weeks at Hogwarts, and he was ranting about the things people would say about you," Remus said, politely ignoring Hermione's embarrassment at the mention. "Makes him livid just to think about it."

Hermione threw a glance at the doors to the dining room. "In there? May I have a look?"

Remus balked a bit. "I guess, but don't touch anything, he trusts us with that," Remus finally relented, though uncomfortable with the idea.

Almost afraid, Hermione approached the door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and opened the door. The sight took her breath away.

"So many?," she gasped, her eyes watery.

"He started with Hogwarts, going back. The first day, it was only about the last weeks, and then Ron and Malfoy, the Chamber, such stuff," Remus softly added from behind, no less affected. "Then he started with the Dursleys. We ran out of bottles, I had to get a few boxes of jars from Tesco."

Hermione's gaze slid across the collection of bottles and jars littering the table, and a huge pile in one corner of the room, each of them containing a wriggling white, worm-like cloud.

"So many," Hermione whispered, sadly.

Remus stepped up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "It was like a dam breaking. Once he started going through his pre-Hogwarts time, the memories kept flooding in," he said sadly, sighing deeply. "After some time, he simply threw the jars in the corner. I never knew how bad it was. If I had, I'd never have adhered to Albus' orders. I finally had to wrestle him down to make him stop and go to bed."

Hermione turned around to muster him. "You did?"

"He might be a bit stronger than me, but he didn't want to hurt me, has no training, and was exhausted," he smiled. "Not that it helped, he barely slept, at all. Woke up screaming, over and over again."

"Nightmares?"

"Bad ones. There was a lot of suppressed junk we had brought to light in these two days."

Sighing, Hermione stepped forward, reaching out to touch one of the bottles. "So many..."

Remus quickly was at her side, gently pushing her arm down. "Don't."

"I would like to understand," Hermione said, sadly.

"Not like that. If he wants to, he will tell you, but you have no right to force the issue like that. Would you like it if he read your diary and all your darkest moments?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, before pulling her arm back. "No. You're right. He trusts me. I'll never do anything that puts this in jeopardy."

_'Again,'_ she added in her mind.

She let her eyes glide over the rest of the room. "It hurts me that he had to do this alone."

"He was never alone. I had charmed the whole room to be near indestructible, and sat here with him, listening to him crying and raging, watching over him. Every few memories, we stopped and talked, sometimes for an hour," Remus replied, again putting his hand on her shoulder.

She was grateful for that little gesture. "I should have been there," she said, once more.

"That wouldn't have worked. You see, you are as much a help as you are a problem to him," Remus said, much to Hermione's shock.

Her eyes narrowed as she hissed at him. "What do you mean!" she demanded.

Remus brushed through his hair with his left hand, trying to find the right words. "We talked a lot, you see. When you are nearby, Harry does his best to be the kind of man he thinks you want him to be. This means that he deals with his anger the only way he had learnt to - he swallows it."

Remus looked around, waving into the general direction of the flasks. "But as you see, he has already swallowed so much, he's almost bursting. He finally has to learn to deal with his emotions in a normal way, allowing himself to actually feel them. His time with these... fools...," Remus corrected himself, "has left him unable to process emotions as a normal human can."

Hermione had a hard time to follow. "That's not right, he laughs, he cries, he gets angry, and he loves. How can you say he can't process emotions?"

"That's difficult to explain," Remus replied, worrying his hair. "Let's try it this way. If a child laughs, and you hit him for it, what will happen? I tell you what – he will suppress happiness. He will learn that it's bad. The Dursleys did so with every emotion he showed. Before he came to Hogwarts, he had no social skills, at all. He is practically a functional sociopath, for all it's worth. He fakes human behaviour to a degree, but he, how can I put it, doesn't really feel it."

"It's kind of hard to explain, I'm no professional," he threw in when Hermione's face wrinkled up in disbelief.

"He can feel amused, afraid or sad, but he has no experience with expressing emotions. That's why he's always the last to laugh, always says he's fine. Friendship, love, that confuses him. He never really know what friendship is, but he liked being with people. So he tried to behave like he saw people do, but from what I learned, Ron wasn't really a role model in that respect."

Hermione sighed. "You can say that."

"But, he loves me! He doesn't just play a role," she turned around and protested.

"But he can't deal with it. Tell me, how much has he done that wasn't initiated by you? I bet nothing," Remus replied. "But he truly loves you," Remus spoke with a smile.

For a moment, he stared at the wall, smiling, before he sighed. "But that's a part of his problem. You know his saving people thing?" Remus asked jokingly, with Hermione nodding bemused.

"And that's how he acts for people he barely knows. Now imagine how bad his urge to protect his beloved one is - something completely new to him!"

Hermione frowned. "If you put it like that, it must be off the scale. Almost terrifying to think about it like that," she replied, not commenting about how flattering that felt to her, at the same time.

"Terrifying is the right word," Remus remarked. "But now for the real problem - the beast inside messes with your emotions, makes them wild and feral. He not only wants to protect you, he wants to protect you like a dragon would protect his mate. It was extremely hard for me to learn to control that emotional volcano, but I had a quite normal childhood, and parents who cared for me and helped me. Harry had none of that."

"He has me!" Hermione interrupted him rudely. She blushed as she realized that she had done so, but stood her ground.

Remus rewarded her with a smile. "That he has. And that is the reason he will make it. He simply has to get used to the situation, learn to assess the scope of events, and respond appropriately."

"I'll go and look after him, now," she responded.

Remus nodded, acknowledging that, for it was obvious that she was simply informing him, not asking for permission.

_**ooOOoo**_

Softly, Hermione was patting towards the door. Carefully, she turned the handle and eased the door open.

To her surprise, Harry was sitting up, looking at her.

"Hi Harry," she whispered, as it had become usual between the two of them.

"Are you going to leave me?" was the blunt response, said in a tone so sad that her breath hitched.

With a few hurried steps, she was at his bed, throwing her arms around his neck. Kissing him forcefully, she let her fingers twirl his hair as he sat motionless for a moment. She had to stop and put his hands on her back to make him wake up and respond to her.

A minute later, she forced herself to pull away from him, her breath heaving as she tried to calm back down.

Harry was staring at her with big eyes. "So you are not leaving me?" He asked, sounding like a preschooler confronted with a problem.

Hermione had to laugh out loud when he did so. "Honestly? Why should I? I love you," she explained it to him, sitting next to him and snaking her arm around his neck, again. Harry stifled a sigh and pulled her close. The sigh broke free from his chest as her head touched his shoulder.

"I..I love you, too, but I'm dangerous, I'm broken," he said, sadly. "Remus has told you, I heard you."

"Didn't you sleep, at all? You need sleep!" Hermione asked, looking up at him from his shoulder.

"Can't. Got so many memories, emotions, it's all over the place. I am afraid of the nightmares I'll have."

"What nightmares?"

"It's nothing."

Hermione rolled her eyes at this Harry-ism. "If it was nothing, why are you afraid to go to sleep? You really got to learn to talk to me, Harry. I want to know what you think, what you feel. I want to be there for you."

"It's weird stuff, you in danger, me in danger, dragons hunting me, Wormtail, huge snakes eating people, Dementors, everything. I would say it's just random stuff, but frankly, all that stuff has happened to me at one time or another," Harry sighed.

"Nothing about your childhood or the Dursleys? I would have thought that this was the worst?"

Harry huffed in annoyance. "No. I'm not afraid of them, anymore. I hate them for what they did to me, but they don't scare me."

"You know, I understand that. It's only normal to do so. Even I do a little, I guess. I couldn't believe how many bad childhood memories you have - was it truly that bad?"

"Worse. But that's not it. Remus helped me realizing how messed up I am because of them. And I'm afraid of losing you because of this. That's why I hate them."

Hermione put her finger on his lips, silencing him. "I am not leaving you. We'll get through your issues, together, ok?"

"But what if we can't? What if I'll stay that way? What if I get worse?" Harry whined. It's not fair that you have to put up with the mess I am, because of them," he suddenly growled, darkly.

With a sigh, Hermione sat up and shook her head. Pulling free, she stood up from the bed.

"I'm sorry! I didn't... I'll behave, I'm calm!" he stuttered in panic.

Hermione ignored him and unzipped her sweater. When she dropped it, and started to unzip her jeans, Harry's panic subsided, and got replaced by utter confusion.

His breath quickened, while he was staring at her with wide open eyes as she kicked her shoes off. He had to swallow reflexively when she dropped her pants and stepped out of them.

"What are you doing?" he croaked with a dry throat when she turned her back on him, undid the catch and wrestled her bra out of her shirt.

"I'm starting repairing you, beginning with making you sleep," she replied with a smile as she padded over to him in t-shirt, socks and panties, lifting his blankets. "Now scoot over, it's cold out here."

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hello," Remus spoke as soon as Hermione had stepped off the staircase. "There are sandwiches and juice in the kitchen, Winky has made them for you."

"I, we, no, I mean we, we didn't," Hermione stammered, blushing brightly, but Remus lifted his hand to stop her.

"I know, and even if, it's not my place to say anything. I just want to thank you. He needed that kind of support. And you finally made him fall asleep."

"You're not going to tell?" Hermione asked.

Remus smiled, and with a few motions of his wand, he conjured a brush and held it out for her. "Of course not, but you could need this to keep your hair from telling."

Hermione quickly touched her head, finding that her hair was in plaids in places. Gingerly touching and pulling here and there, she sighed in annoyance, before giving Remus puppy eyes. "Could you lend me a hand with a grooming charm, first? Please?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"MUM! DAD! COME ON!" Hermione yelled from the hallway, just as said couple was appearing at the top of the stairs.

"Not in this tone, young lady," her mother chided.

"The portkey is timed, if we're not ready by 1 o'clock, it is gone," Hermione huffed. "We got two minutes!" she complained, not mentioning that she hadn't seen Harry for almost a week. There had been telephone calls and letters, but that wasn't the same. She knew that Harry had bounced back from the setback at the beginning of the week, and Remus had assured her that he had made leaps and bounds, now that he finally vented his repressed anger, but she needed to see!

"And we are ready, so stop being rude," her father replied, pulling the cuffs of his shirt even. "Or would you prefer not going?"

Hermione lowered her head, immediately. "Sorry, Sir."

"Better. Now where is that thingy," Margret inquired. Hermione wasted no time to produce the cushion Remus had charmed earlier that week.

Her father inspected it closely. "I expected it to glow or something. Anyway, how does it work?"

"No time for that - we take hold of it, and it will activate and take us to Grimmauld Place," Hermione replied. "And we should do that now, only a few seconds left," she insisted, holding it out to her parents.

"Well, let's go then," Henry replied and took hold of a corner, with Margret hesitantly doing the same.

"Will it be..." she asked, but never completed her question as the portkey kicked in, and all of them were sent spinning through the ether, with Margret screaming her lungs out until they landed on the floor of Black Manor.

"Ow. Thanks for the cushioning charm," Hermione moaned. Harry was quickly at her side and helped her up, while Sirius and Remus took care of Henry and Margret, with Sophie laughing her ass off on the couch.

"You alright?" Remus asked Margret, who had taken a bad stumble in her heels, and was massaging her left ankle. "Should I look after your leg? Did you sprain it?"

Margret shook her head and held out her hand. "No, I just bent it the wrong way on landing, it's fine."

"I told you that you guys need to start running in mid-air, once the portkey stops spinning! Didn't you tell them?" Sirius demanded while he cleaned Margret's dress.

"No time for that, they were running so late that we almost missed the portkey," Hermione replied. "Maybe they will be willing to listen to their daughter, next time."

"Point taken," Henry grumbled.

"And this is why I'm glad we didn't have children before he ran off," Sophie commented from her place at the couch. "With Hermione, I could always hand her back to her parents when it got too much for me."

Remus cleared his throat loudly. "I think this is the moment somebody should propose that we let things be and move on to dinner? It's a beautiful occasion, and the last time we can dine together for a couple of weeks. Winky outdid herself, and it would be a shame to let it spoil and quarrel instead," he spoke with a charming smile. "Lest we forget, Remus Lupin, at your service," he finally introduced himself to the Grangers, bowing slightly as he shook Margret's hand, before exchanging a handshake with Henry. "Pleased to finally meet you. I heard a lot about you, only the best, of course."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Margret replied with a glance at the still laughing Sophie.

"Some flaws only make a person more attractive, don't you think?" Remus answered, again smiling amiably. "But let's continue in a more comfortable setting," he added, inviting her to follow him with a smooth gesture.

"I can see why he was hired to teach Harry," Margret whispered to Henry, following as the gentle werewolf led the way to the dining room.

_**ooOOoo**_

"That was the best meal I had in my life, bar none," Sirius purred as he pushed his chair away from the table, patting his stomach contently.

Hermione was of the same opinion. "Indeed, thank you so much, Winky," she praised the elf, which was starting to show a purple tinge at the tips of her ears.

"You, too, Kreacher. I never knew you could make pancakes catch fire and still make them taste so well," Harry complimented. He was confused when the others started laughing.

"Oh Harry, they are called Crêpes Suzette, and they are made that way, you burn off the alcohol, but the taste of the cognac stays," Hermione explained under giggles.

"That's right, educate your man on the finer points of life," Sophie cheered, already a bit tipsy from the bottle of Chardonnay she had shared with Sirius.

"Speaking of," Sirius piped up, "Brandy, sherry, anything?"

Margret refused the offer graciously. "I'm good, that wine of yours is quite stronger than I'm used to."

"You can say that, you notice it was made in times people still cared. I never drank a wine older than me before, thank you, Sirius," Henry said.

"A cellar with wine preserving charms - I have bottles down there that were filled under Queen Victoria," Sirius replied with a grin. "So, brandy? Cigar?"

Henry thought for a moment. "We're going for a walk, and I don't need to drive. Would certainly help my stomach with that excellent pheasant. Yes, I think I'm game for a brandy."

Sirius happily clapped his hands. "Excellent! Winky, could you get us two brandies? From the crystal flask, if you please," he asked his eager helper, who popped away after a quick curtsy.

"That's the brand Churchill preferred. Same vintage, too," he remarked to Henry, who smiled back.

"I believe we will become very good friends, my chap."

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ok, everyone fine? Cloaks fitting?" Sirius inquired.

"Do we really need those? It's not exactly form fitting," Sophie complained.

Margret agreed. "We never wore anything like that when we went shopping with Hermione."

"It's not exactly necessary, but it doesn't hurt to blend in with the local culture, don't you agree? They do have the benefit of warming charms. Bar a severe storm, they will always keep you at room temperature," Remus intervened, providing an argument that won over Margret, immediately. She now examined the garment with interest, with Harry pointing out the runes stitched into the various hems to seal the warmth in.

"Also, I could alter yours to fit you better, if you want," Remus proposed to Sophie. "I presume we start with adjusting the fit, and them we cover any special wishes?" he asked, producing his wand from his sleeve with a smile that won her over.

While Remus was busy finding a compromise between proper wizard attire and Sophie's preferences, Margret leaned over to whisper something into Hermione's ear that caused Hermione to blush, and Remus and Harry to burst into laughter.

"I...I... Um.. It wasn't..." Margret stammered when she realized she got busted.

"What did you say?" Sophie demanded. "Come on, Gretty, out with it! Did you say something about me? Is something wrong with my coat? Do I look stupid?" she asked in rapid succession, bending this and that way to inspect her attire.

Remus raised a calming hand from where he still knelt. "No, it's about me. And to answer the questions in order, I work in a book store because they don't ask questions about my demands for some days off a month, I am soft-spoken because I need total self-control, and I can sew well because I was a bachelor and poor all my life. I can assure you that I bat for the home team, though, I just haven't left the bench for a couple of years," he replied with a grin, while Sirius, Henry and Sophie joined the laughter, leaving Margret thoroughly mortified.

Sophie was having a serious case of the giggles, holding on to Sirius for dear life. "These two make gossiping an art form, there's just no chance to do it without them listening in."

"It's not as if we could help," Remus shrugged, finishing the hem he was working on. "We're naturally perceptive to slight motions and sounds, the stealthier, the more it attracts our attention."

Sirius took action at that mention. "Talking of that, you got your cloak for me?"

"Of course, here. But be careful, it's delicate," Harry spoke as he handed his invisibility cloak over.

"Pup, I spent more time around this cloak than you did," Sirius smiled back. "I know all about it, and some things because of it," he added with a wink.

"Spare us the creep stories you pulled off with an invisibility cloak, please," Hermione pleaded. Sirius maturely stuck out his tongue at her in reply.

"Invisibility cloak? You had an invisibility cloak in our house? Why do I only hear about this, now?" Henry demanded.

"Because you don't read letters fully?" Margret talked back at her husband. "Hermione has mentioned that item for years, and she mentioned a couple of times that it doesn't block sound. Besides, I trust them to at least stay somewhat within the boundaries I had put up," she chided her husband, who motioned his surrender.

"Also, I checked up on them often enough to know that they barely kept that promise," she added with a smirk at Hermione and Harry that made them blush in shock.

Sirius laughed out loud. "You never noticed? That's rich. Superhuman hearing may be fine, but never forget that you got only mere human awareness. You are just one of us when distracted. Oh! That reminds me of a hilarious story," he started telling, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he smirked at Remus.

Remus didn't need to move or get loud. He simply said two words, softly, that shut Sirius up, quickly.

"March, fifth!"

Sirius swallowed his next word so quickly that he almost sounded like a scratched record. "Never mind, not that funny, anyway - shall we get on with our stroll?" He tried to save his decorum, failing badly as he rapidly changed complexion from blanching to blushing.

_**ooOOoo**_

"That place was dingy," Sophie complained after they stepped into the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron. "Don't you have any health inspections?"

"Not really, but the Leaky Cauldron is one of the better pubs," Hermione replied.

"I don't want to see the bad ones, then. The patrons were creepy, too. That one in the back looked like she would eat babies."

Remus cleared his throat, but Sirius commented from underneath the invisible cloak. "Given that she was a hag, that could be within the realm of the possible."

"Great. And disgusting. And we seem to be stuck," she commented with a look around.

"Wait and see," Hermione smirked as she pulled her wand and started tapping certain bricks in the wall.

Sophie almost stumbled into Sirius when the bricks started shifting, creating an arched passage.

Margret stood next to her friend, watching as well. "Impressive, isn't it? Mesmerizing, I say. Gets me every time."

By that time, the path was open, allowing them a look at the bustling Diagon Alley.

_**ooOOoo**_

"They really stir themselves? That would come handy in the kitchen," Sophie commented.

"Indeed, but I still prefer my food processor," Margret replied.

"You and your mad concoction. I don't need no such thing, but you know, I sometimes get distracted and forget to stir. Quite a mess to clean up."

"No problem, there's a spell which cleans a crusted pot in an instant," Sirius replied from under his cloak.

Sophie looked impressed. "Ok, so you're doing the dishes, from now on. Is there also a spell to un-burn food?"

Remus laughed when she asked that question. "No, but a very handy one that only vanishes the burnt parts, and leaves the edible rest untouched. Sirius is a master of that spell."

"Oh yes! Best spell, ever - I'd have starved in my flat without that one," Sirius agreed almost a tad too loud.

When the book store came into view, Henry suddenly started to chuckle. When prompted by many questioning looks, he broke into a huge grin.

"I just realized that I'm not dreading that shop, for the first time. Hermione can shop all she wants, I don't have to carry it, and Harry even has promised to take over the tab!"

"How convenient," Sirius' disembodied voice was heard. "Speaking of money, I need to go to Gringotts, now."

"Are you sure it's safe to go there?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"They're ok. To them, I was never officially convicted, not even charged. Therefore, to them, it's legal, so they don't care, as long as you pay the extra fee for discrete service. See you at home, right? Have fun."

_**ooOOoo**_

Two hours later, they had finished raiding the book store, and were sitting at Fortescue's, sampling their ice creams.

"This is amazing, every bite, another flavour," Sophie swooned.

"The size is impressive, at well. I can practically hear your molars begging for mercy," Henry commented.

"Shut up, Granger. Don't stand between me and this goodness of frozen taste, or you will regret it," Sophie snapped back, brandishing her long spoon like a sword.

She stopped abruptly when she noticed that Harry had bent his spoon into an U-shape around his hand with his thumb. "Harry, you ok?"

"It's the three old crones two tables over," Remus replied, instead. "Given the things they say, I say our week of restraint training has done wonders for Harry. But excuse me for a moment," he spoke and rose, walking over to said table.

He exchanged a few words with the women, but the reaction seemed to be quite hostile. Margret gasped as she saw Remus' posture changed slightly. It was minuscule, but the effect was tremendous. Gone was the gentle, timid man, and in his pace was someone dangerous. The stark contrast made it even more intimidating. The three old women got the message quickly, and almost fled in panic.

Moments later, the old Remus was back at his seat. "Sorry for that interruption," he said as he picked up his spoon, again.

"What happened there?" Margret asked, still quite shaken.

"They weren't willing to listen to polite arguments, so I had to let the wolf peek out a bit. Sorry. I think we better leave," Remus replied.

"Agreed, if I don't get some distance between me and this sugary evil, I'll burst," Sophie replied after another spoonful. Standing up, she quickly took another spoon. "One for the way, well, maybe another," she said, starting to take another one. "Guys, help me!" she suddenly said. "Get me out of here!"

Shaking her head, Margret plucked the spoon out of her hand, and started guiding her towards the exit.

_**ooOOoo**_

"No, they are most definitely not charmed. Just irresistible," Remus chuckled as they stepped onto the street. Sophie was still not fully convinced, and stomped off, deeper into Diagon Alley.

Remus had to quickly rush after her when she wanted to take a left turn. "Not there, this is not the kind of place you'd want to be," he said as he took her by the shoulder.

Sophie was about to protest, but then she looked up into the the alley she was about to step into and quickly heeded his advice.

Meanwhile, Margret had taken a good look at the windows of the shop at the corner. "That looks fun, let's go in there," she said, pointing at the overflowing display of random articles.

The shop's sign read 'Barnaby's Odds and Sods', and the display looked every little bit like that.

"What is this shop?" Harry inquired as he spied through the window, finding a confusing assortment of quills, books, clothing articles, and some banged up brooms.

"It's a second hand shop," Remus replied. "They got almost everything, but it's either old, cheap or broken."

Margret was already at the door. "I love knick-knack!"

_**ooOOoo**_

"And what is this?" Margret asked the shop hostess, pointing at a huge bag that looked like it was made out of carpet, with an umbrella stuck through the handles. "This looks familiar, I just can't put it down to what it reminds me of," she said, caressing the carved duck head on the handle.

"Oh, this old thing. It's a Lady's travel set, out of the middle to late eighteen hundreds," the old woman replied. "The umbrella still works, but the bag is not working right."

Hermione's curiosity was awakened. "Working? What is their function?"

"Travel, of course. The bag is bottomless, and the umbrella was a quirk of fashion of that time, people didn't think it was proper for a witch to ride a broom. It fell out of fashion at the turn of the century, never really caught on."

Harry stifled a laugh. "So they sat on umbrellas to fly?"

"Don't be silly, young man. Of course not, you held it in your hand of course," the woman replied a bit harshly. "Sitting on it would be just as improper as a broom."

Hermione was even more curious, now. "But how does that work?"

For a moment, the woman was looking as if she was about to explain it, but then she just pulled the umbrella out of the handles, and handed it to Hermione. "It's easier to show."

"Um, how does it work?"

"Like a broom, open it, hold it over your head, and give the command to fly."

"But we're inside!"

"Then just hover. It's slow, anyway."

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione complied. Standing there, feeling extremely silly, she opened the umbrella, held it up, and said, "Up!"

Immediately, her whole body became almost painfully stiff, as she struck an extremely prim pose. Only a moment later, Hermione had shut the umbrella down and dropped it.

"Ouch!"

"Careful, you'll break it," the old woman chided as she picked it up, while Margret started laughing.

Hermione was irritated, and vented it loudly. "Break it? It is already broken!"

"Not at all, it works exactly as it should."

"I could only move my head!" Hermione protested.

"Of course, so you couldn't fall off," the women replied, unimpressed. "How long did you think you could hang from it with just one arm, otherwise?"

"And why did it slam my legs together?"

"Propriety, my dear – if they dangle freely, people could look under your robes when you fly by," was the smirking reply. Remus and Harry joined Margret in laughter.

"Ok, this actually makes sense," Hermione replied, a bit mollified. "But why did it bend my feet outwards? That almost hurt!"

"Because you're Mary Poppins," Margret snorted with laughter. "You looked just like Julie Andrews! Now I know where I've seen this stuff before." A few moments after this explanation, Henry and Sophie also started chuckling.

"You know a witch who still uses those? She must be pretty old," the shop owner mused.

Hermione was also chucking at the coincidence, but still needed an answer. "So, what about the feet?" she prompted.

The woman had to shake her head briefly, clearing it, before she replied. "The feet? Oh, the feet! This is quite a funny tale. At first, the feet locked in a normal position, but at the time, these telegraph wires sprang up everywhere. You see, they were almost impossible to see in the night, and lot's of witches snagged on these lines with their feet, so the charm was changed."

"Crazy," Sophie chuckled. "And the bag?"

The woman frowned in reply. "Don't know. It's supposed to be bottomless, but whenever you put something in, something random pops out again. You can still take things out, but in time, it will be empty, and then you can only put one thing into it, for the other will pop out. Still kind of useful, but broken."

Harry was inspecting the bag, closely, his finger following some of the vines of the flowery pattern. Suddenly, he waved Hermione over. "Look here, this is fascinating. Can you see these slightly glowing patterns here?"

Hermione was straining to see a glow, but had to pass. "No, I don't, what do you mean?"

"Here, there are runes stitched into this," Harry pointed out, before pausing as he saw a slightly dimmer point.

"How much for the bag?" he suddenly asked.

Immediately, the woman changed from slightly batty to professional. "I can only sell this as a set, fifty Galleons."

"Harry, this is entirely too much, we don't need this stuff, anyway," Hermione protested.

"I give you ten," Harry replied, ignoring Hermione. The woman feigned a heart attack, fanning herself.

"Preposterous! It sold for five hundred, new! Forty."

"Harry, what do you want to do with that stuff," Henry asked. "The umbrella is a nice curiosity, but the bag is broken. Entirely too much money for a collectible."

"Ok, thirty," the old woman interrupted, quickly. In these confined space, it was almost impossible for Harry not to notice the woman's smell of fear. When he didn't say a thing for a few moments, she caved in.

"Alright, I tell you something. I got it for twenty, I sell it to you at cost, last offer."

"Deal," Harry smirked, pulling his purse out.

_***** May 8**__**th**__**, Hogwarts Express *****_

"And then Harry made Remus sew up a ripped spot on the side of the bag, and told him what runes he believed should be on there. After a bit of testing, it was deemed repaired," Hermione finished the tale, patting her new bag happily. "Then, they covered it in soft leather, so it wouldn't be damaged so easily, and, to be frank, to be less ugly," she laughed. "It's so handy, I even got both our trunks in it, right now – the best present, ever," she almost squealed, giving Harry a peck on his cheek.

Neville chuckled as he gave Harry an approving nod. "Who knew you'd have a knack for Runes," he spoke. "Lots of people can dabble with runes, but good enchanters are extremely rare. You'll make a fortune with this."

While Harry blushed slightly and tried to ignore the praise, Hermione was almost gushing. "That's nothing, when... Mister Lupin," Hermione just caught herself in time, "was working on a... mechanism..., he had problems with the duplicating charms he needed jamming the mechanics of it. After he had puzzled two days over it, it took Harry five minutes to find that one Nautiz had been markstaved where it shouldn't."

Neville was similarly impressed. But Hermione wasn't done, yet. "And then, Harry gave him a few pointers on how it would work smother if he added some phrases at places," she babbled, completely exited.

Harry was getting embarrassed by Hermione's bragging, and he couldn't just tell Neville about why he could do it. Also, the longer Hermione talked about their break, the higher the risk she could accidentally mention Sirius.

"What did you do with that umbrella?" Neville asked. "Got it with you?"

"Yes, it's somewhere in here," Hermione replied, immediately retrieving her bag and reaching arm's deep into it. "I got it somewhere, wait," she spoke as she stuck her head into the bag, too, before she suddenly cried out in triumph. "There it is," she said as she pulled it out.

"Cool, can I try it?" Neville asked.

A few minutes later, word of the flying umbrella had reached the twins, who joined them in spending the rest of the ride taking turns floating around in the compartment.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Still feels good to be back," Harry sighed as they stepped onto the Hogsmeade platform, and into the cacophony of students leaving the train. Crookshanks made some angry noises to comment how he felt about it. He certainly would have preferred if he could have made the travel on his own, like Hedwig was currently doing, but the truth is that he would probably just have invaded the third or fourth house he passed by, and made himself at home there until the semester was over.

Both tried to lag behind a bit, not particularly interested in being the first in line waiting for the self-propelled coaches ferrying the students up to the castle.

Lounging around and exchanging pleasantries with Neville and the twins, they slowly made their way to the carts, until they finally were in line to board the next one, along with Neville and some lone Ravenclaw girl, to finally ride up to the castle.

That's when Harry suddenly noticed someone pushing and shoving his way through the crowd, students making way for him.

"Make way, move, let me through," Professor Moody growled as he shoved some Slytherins away, forcing his way towards Harry and Hermione. He had an aura of urgency that made Harry's skin crawl. Anticipating bad news, he set Crookshanks down and awaited the inevitable.

"Potter! Follow me," he barked. Harry was almost inclined to do so, until he noticed that something in the man's smell was off, a faint trace of fear, anxiety.

"What happened?"

"Your family, we need to get going," was the short-bound reply.

Harry stood still for a long moment, his head hanging low, his eyes directed at the ground. When he finally raised his head, his gaze was cold.

"My family is dead," he replied.

Moody was perplexed. "What? No, they aren't, but you need to come with me," he quickly retorted.

"I don't care how the Dursleys are – my mother and father are dead, and to me, they are the only family I had," Harry replied sadly. "To me, anything concerning the Dursleys is none of my business, and I don't care," he said, turning around to step into the carriage. Hermione put her arm around his waist in support as he finally had made the choice he had been pondering the last week. He had spoken about this at length with everyone, and her parents had already made careful inquiries about taking him in as a foster child.

Moody wasn't having any of this though. "I don't have time for your teenage tantrums, Potter! I told you that we need to go to them, now!" he barked, grabbing Harry roughly by the arm. "Move, Potter!" he barked, his face almost in front of Harry.

Harry flinched when he was subjected to the foul breath of his Professor. For a moment he pondered what cheap swill Moody had in his hip flask, when it suddenly occurred to him that he knew this smell. He still vividly remembered it, and the awful taste of the brew that reeked like that.

"Polyjuice?" he stammered in shock, staring at Moody.

Before he could react, Moody had reached into his pocket, and Harry felt the familiar feel of a hook in the navel, as the world suddenly started spinning. Peripherally, he realized that Hermione had been taken with him for the ride.

_**ooOOoo**_

They struck the ground, hard. Harry faintly registered the smell of freshly dug earth when they landed, but he was too focussed on his assailant to realize where he had landed. Behind him, he could hear Hermione moan as she crushed into the soft ground, and he doubled his efforts to get to his feet.

When he rose, he immediately grabbed the arm of man who pretended to be Moody in front of him. He could hear something snap when he pulled the flabbergasted man to his feet with a powerful jerk, while his right fist already entered an intersecting trajectory to the now screaming face.

With a dry crunch, Harry could feel his knuckles connect with the man's chin, and how the bone within gave way as the man slumped to the ground like struck by lightning.

The threat neutralized, Harry took a quick look around. Quite unexpectedly, they were at a graveyard, Harry faintly realized the smell of freshly dug up earth, candles and old flowers.

That very moment, Harry's head felt like somebody had driven a red-hot railway spike through his forehead. Agonized, Harry doubled over, his hands pressing against his head with so much force that the pain actually increased. Taking a few deep breaths, Harry slowly regained control of his senses, just in time to notice that there was another person present.

That was when a high, cold voice rang out.

"Stun him, kill the spare!"

He knew that voice – he had heard it in many dreams over the last few months. When he saw Pettigrew standing there, that malformed baby of his dreams in his arms, he suddenly realized that he hadn't been dreaming.

By that time, it was too late to dodge the stunning spell that hit him square in the chest.

Much to his surprise, he only felt slightly dizzy when it hit him, forcing him to drop on his knee. Shaking his head, he stood up again, only to hear the incantation he feared the most of all.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione was stunned after the hard impact. She barely had stumbled to her feet when she heard the painful cries of somebody, very close to her. She barely heard the stunning spell, but then she heard the words she had hoped to never hear in her life.

The green light confirmed her guess, and for a moment, Hermione was watching her life rushing by as she expected death.

Suddenly, the green light rushing at her was replaced by the green and golden eyes she knew like the back of her hands. With a last flash of green light, the glow of the curse vanished as it struck Harry between the shoulder blades, along with the light in his eyes.

_**AN:**_  
What a winter. Three months of catastrophic weather. First a storm blew a barn tent over and into pieces, then the torrential rain set in - turning everything into knee deep mud. Which froze over into a moon landscape. Which got buried under 4 feet of snow. Three times, I was stuck at home for three days, having to dig myself out with my loader. And in between, it thawed to restore the knee deep mud, only to bury it again in snow.

Since last weekend, I finally got the snow out of my blacksmith's shop, and am still digging the mud out of it...

At least this story is progressing nicely - my eternal gratitude to Embirsiphonelilathia and alix33 for their help.

PS: Just as I'm posting this, another torrential rain has flooded my shop, again...


	17. Hurlyburly

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 16: Hurlyburly...**

"Harry!" Hermione screamed as he slumped in her arms, her scream not the only one.

"You blithering idiot!" The thing in Pettygrew's arms screamed in rage as the curse had connected. "You worthless, good for nothing, mud-blooded squib! I told you to kill the girl, not Potter!" he screamed, while Hermione, pinned down under Harry's lifeless body, started wailing and sobbing.

"Sorry, Master," Peter whined, and aligned his wand anew.

He never finished that, as the small creature in the bundle smacked him in his face, screaming further abuse.

"Stop! You mindless troll-spawn! I might need her for the ritual. Since you killed Potter, she must suffice!"

His words registered with Hermione, waking a primal rage within her. "I'll kill you!" she screamed, wiggling and pushing to get free from Harry's weight. While it was surprising the quarrelling men, she was far too slow to get the drop on them. She had barely managed to get onto her feet and draw her wand as an _Expelliarmus_ spell from Pettigrew connected with her.

With a loud gasp, she was slammed back onto her butt and on top of Harry, her wand twirling through the air, coming to a clattering halt right between her and her captors she could only stare hatefully at.

"Well, the ritual asks for the blood of an enemy," the thing in Wormtail's arm cackled. "She definitely qualifies. But thinking about it, I think we will use Potter's blood first. It doesn't say that the enemy must be alive or even present for the ritual," it mulled darkly.

"As you command, Master," Peter grovelled in reply.

"Don't celebrate prematurely, Wormtail," the creature hissed coldly. "If it fails, we will repeat it, and you will have the privilege to officiate a second time," it growled, which for some reason Hermione couldn't understand made Pettigrew's face lose all colouration.

"Tie her to the headstone," it commanded. "And then look after Barty."

"And stun her, already, you incompetent fool," the creature hissed angrily, which led to Hermione's world to fade out in a flash of red.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione's eyes fluttered when she slowly became conscious, again. Moments later, the burning pain in her wrists and shoulders cleared the cobwebs completely as she moaned.

"WORMTAIL! Our guest is awake," a raspy, sick voice called out.

Almost instantly, Hermione remembered where she was and what had happened. With a scream she wanted to launch herself at her captors, but that scream turned into a shriek just as quickly. Hermione almost fainted, again, when her shoulders felt like being torn apart by her attempted movement. Only then, she realized that he arms had been bound behind her back, around a stone obelisk. There was no way she could cross the ten, maybe fifteen feet between her and the figures standing near a huge cauldron.

"I can see what the late Harry Potter saw in her," the small bundle, which she now was sure to be what had become of the Dark Lord, cackled, waving towards the huge cauldron's base.

That comment hit Hermione harder than anything he could have said. She hung limply in her bonds, staring at Harry's crumpled form lying next to the kindling stacked under the cauldron's bottom.

Meanwhile, the others had returned to their discussion.

"Anyway, Barty is right, Wormtail - it would run against the intent of the ritual to use the blood of a dead foe. I'm not willing to suffer the eventual drawbacks," the Dark Homunculus in Pettigrew's arms spoke.

Hermione had no idea who this Barty was, but it was obvious that it was the man in Professor Moody's clothes. Even if she knew him, identification would be currently impossible, as the man held his jaw shut with his left hand, his right arm hanging limp.

"Hmmpf," that man moaned, which caused the small creature to stare deep into his eyes. After a moment, it nodded. "I suppose you are right. Wormtail, help him set his shoulder and mend his jaw. While he has somewhat failed me, I need him at least partially able to do something."

"Master, I beg your pardon," Pettigrew grovelled. "I could help his arm, but I'm afraid I can't help with his jaw."

The small thing in his arms smacked him as hard as it could. "You are truly pathetic. Set his shoulder, cast some healing charms and then use a paralysis charm on his jaw! That should be within your meagre abilities, you near-squib!"

While they were distracted, Hermione was busy taking in her surroundings. She was tied, and wandless. Her wand was probably broken or whatever, it could just as well be on the moon, for all the good it did her. But maybe Harry's wand was still in his sleeve.

The graveyard wasn't huge, but she couldn't see past the hedges, and she knew that these men wouldn't be here if they hadn't warded everything properly. They were just too relaxed.

Which made her wonder what exactly went on here - they mentioned a ritual, and she didn't need long to realize that it probably had something to do with Voldemort's current state.

Given the fact that they seemed to be done with whatever medical aid Pettigrew had given the man, meant that she would soon find out.

While that Barty person was lighting the fire under the cauldron, Hermione surreptitiously twisted her arms as far as the pain allowed and started moving her arms up and down, beginning to grind down her ropes on the stone.

_**ooOOoo**_

Five minutes later, Hermione could feel the first strands pop. She tried not to show her glee, which in fact, wasn't that hard. She just had to concentrate on the burning pain in her shoulders, arms, and wrists. Her shoulders were growing numb from the awkward angle, her arms were raw from rubbing against the stone, and her wrists had already started to bleed under the rough hemp rope tying them together. Still, she relentlessly worked her bindings against the rough stone, even though she had no plan beyond getting rid of her ties.

The triumphant grunt of that Barty guy told her she better hurry up, for he finally had gotten whatever they were brewing right. And the fact that the liquid not only bubbled, but also sent out fiery sparks told her that they weren't simply experimenting with a new recipe for chicken broth.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione was frantic. Whatever these men were doing was going to be bad. Really bad. She had taken a better look than she cared for at the creature in Pettigrew's arms when they unwrapped it. It was hideous, a caricature of a human being. She was actually glad when they had dropped it into the cauldron, just so that she didn't need to see it any longer. But when Pettigrew had chanted about bone of the father, renewing the son, while levitating some bone dust out of a graveside that was marked 'Riddle', she realized what was about to happen.

The way the potion sparked and hissed was unsettling, but even worse was the blade Pettigrew drew from his robes. Hermione was panicking. 'He'll sacrifice me! He'll sacrifice me!' She was stuck thinking this over and over, while her ties still held fast. All thoughts of stealth were tossed out of the window, she was working her bonds with the strength of desperation, trying to break free.

She froze when she heard Pettigrew sobbing his next chant.

"Flesh – of the servant," he spoke, hesitating for a moment, long enough for Hermione to realize that she certainly didn't qualify as servant of the dark lord. "W-w-willingly given..." he whimpered, to Hermione's shock, extending his right hand over the cauldron, brandishing the wicked blade in his left.

She didn't expect this, at all. She was so flabbergasted that she forgot to grind her ties and just watched. Until Pettigrew actually brought the dagger down and sliced his hand clean off. The piercing wail and the splash of the hand in the potion pulled her out of her stupor, only to get violently sick.

While she still was heaving, her stomach purged from everything she got, but still trying to expel more, she was forced to avert her head. The cauldron had started to glow brightly red, a glow so intense that it hurt her.

While she squinted down, she could see this Barty guy pulling Pettigrew to his feet, and pushing him into her direction. She also noticed that the man seemed to be cringing from these few motions, leaning against a headstone to take a few breaths while he clutched his right shoulder.

By then, Pettigrew had taken a few wobbly steps in her direction, stammering about 'Blood of the enemy'. He had his right arm tucked into the pit of his left arm, his robes wet from his blood, glistering in the red light.

Realizing that the dagger in his shaking left hand was now meant for her, she ground her bonds against the stone with renewed vigour.

"Now you did it," she suddenly spat out, choosing to vent her ire as long as she still could.

Pettigrew actually paused for a moment, confused. Even though his face was a grimace of pain, you could see his puzzlement at her statement.

"I hope you feel satisfied – now you killed all the Potters!" she spat at him, twisting and turning as she struggled against the ropes.

That made Pettigrew stare at her in shock – he probably never realized that.

"You make me hope that there is a god, and you will burn in eternity for what you did," she growled, her fury fuelled by the pain in her wrists. She could feel blood trickling down her hands and dripping from her fingers as she tugged and pulled.

"Shut up!" Pettigrew yelled back, swooning lightly. He shook his head, blinking a few times, before he scanned her for a moment.

Hermione screamed in pain as the blade skimmed across her leg. With a quick slash, Pettigrew had opened a deep gash in her right thigh, that made her buck against her ties with a power that she'd never been able to endure on her own volition. Her scream intensified when the ropes, slippery from her blood, slipped halfway over her hands, crushing them brutally.

Pettigrew hadn't noticed a thing. He had dropped the dagger and was fumbling in his pocket for something when Hermione grit her teeth and threw herself against her bonds one more time.

With a scream that would have made a fury turn green with envy, Hermione pulled her hands completely through the loops of the ropes binding her. Pettigrew had only enough time to look up before her fist connected with his nose. Hermione shrieked with pain as her damaged hand crushed his nasal bone.

_**ooOOoo**_

Frantically, Hermione dropped onto her knees and fumbled at Pettigrew's robes. It took her only a few moments, but by the time she had stolen his wand, Barty had drawn and was already casting.

Barty screamed almost louder than Hermione did. His cutting curse had opened a big gash on her left shoulder, but the slashing motion had hurt his shoulder about as much as the cut had hurt her.

She could feel the wand bucking in her grip as she cast a banishing hex in reply, forcing the magic through the mismatched wand. Of course, that caused the spell to go wide, but going by the moan when he hit the ground in a roll, the dodging hurt him just as much as or even more as if the feeble result had connected.

Still, the man had years of experience to him, and working for the Dark Lord meant that he was no stranger to pain. From his spot on the ground, Barty switched the wand to his uninjured arm.

Making a decision on the spot, Hermione cast a _Finite _at Barty. The man didn't think anything about it, and chose not to dodge. He paid dearly for that poor choice when the paralysis charm on his jaw was dispelled. The sudden pain as the bones shifted against each other was all it took to make him stop mid-spell, actually dropping his wand as he clenched his face in agony.

Hermione had no time to follow up with another hex. Out of nowhere, Peter Pettigrew jumped at her. Well, not exactly out of nowhere, but unexpected enough to topple her over.

The sudden acceleration disarmed her, the wand flying high through the air, as she crashed to the ground. She was stunned for but a moment, but that was enough for Peter to climb on top of her, trying to strangle her. When his left hand closed around her throat, instinct took over. She slapped and clawed and buckled, trying everything to get him off her, even though her shoulder and leg hurt like hell from all the motion.

As her sight began to blur from onsetting asphyxiation, she did something she'd never thought she'd do.

It came as a total surprise to Pettigrew that she not only stopped trying to fight him off, but completely inverted her strategy. Instead of pushing him away, she suddenly grabbed his injured arm and pulled him toward her, digging her fingers into the wound.

Screaming in pain, Peter collapsed onto her, losing the grip on her throat. But in reply, he started to hit her.

Hermione wheezed when his fist hit her side, but knew that she must not let go. She dug her hands deeper into his stump, hanging on for dear life. She saw stars blinking in and out of existence when he cuffed her against the temple. Only the fact that he was screaming in pain, lying in a bad position to hit her and using his left hand kept Hermione from fainting right now.

Desperate, Hermione pulled his arm even closer and bit down on the wound, hard.

Hermione had never in her life heard a person scream like that. Pettigrew wailed and shrieked, flopping helplessly around on top of her, the pain too intense to even think about anything but trying to pull the arm away. Even though the taste in her mouth as fresh blood spilled all over her face was revolting, Hermione clung to the arm, even wrapping her legs around his legs to keep him from simple rolling off. Shaking her head fiercely as she chewed the stump, she continued until Pettigrew slumped and stopped moving.

Kicking and pushing him as far away from her as she could, Hermione rolled onto her stomach and started to retch, but her empty stomach had nothing but some blood and bile left.

Her intestines cramped another two times before a purple spell shot past her. Confused for a moment, she suddenly remembered Barty.

Barty was pissed. His right arm was just useful enough to support his jaw, and he never was competent at casting off-handed. He still was bound to his master's command and needs, but that only meant he couldn't kill that recalcitrant Mudblood whore. His flaying curse had missed her by inches, so he sent a string of barbed wire to bind her, only to curse as the girl had jumped forward in the worst possible moment.

Crawling on all fours, Hermione barely noticed the barbs whirring past her, wrapping around a marble cross covered in ivy. All she cared for was Harry, and his wand in his sleeve.

When Barty realized what she wanted to do, he slowly stood up, slowly letting go of his jaw and pulling Potter's wand from his pocket holding it out to mock her while she was digging through the Boy-Who-Had-Lived's clothes.

Hermione almost froze when she saw it. Out of frustration, her fingers dug into Harry's arm she had been searching only a moment ago. Her mind was going miles a minute - she needed a weapon, something, anything you could cast with.

When her eyes fell on Harry's arm in her hands, she had a crazy idea.

_**ooOOoo**_

Barty dropped on his knees as the cutting curse flew over him, dropping Potter's wand in the progress. How on earth had she done that, it shot through his brain, almost as painful as the sudden motion was to his injuries.

Just as he had enough and cast a _Crucio_ at her, the girl did the unthinkable, and toppled the cauldron towards him.

Hermione was almost as surprised that it had worked as Barty was. The problem was that it was almost impossible to cast while the arm was still attached to Harry. She almost laughed out loud when she realized that she could use the spell that already saved her life, once. With a swish and flick, she poured the boiling kettle out on Barty, just as a red light flashed at her.

For a few moments, there was cacophony at the graveyard. Barty screamed because the boiling potion was searing him, both thermal and magical, at the same time. Voldemort was screaming at Barty to get him out of here, while Hermione was screaming in fear, ducking behind Harry's corpse, which buckled slightly as the spell hit it instead of her.

Barty dove for his Lord, throwing himself into a pirouette after grabbing him.

And all of a sudden, Hermione was alone.

The silence was eerie, after all the screaming and spell fire.

Like in a daze, Hermione was staring at her surroundings, her system slowly bleeding off the adrenaline rush she had been operating on in the longest one or two minutes of her life.

Her breath hitching, she slowly came to realize the situation she was in. Finally, she realized the painful truth, and tears started to fall as she sobbed over Harry. Letting out a pained wail, she pulled him on her lap, crying over his face, helplessly hitting Harry's chest with her fist, over and over as she cried.

Until with a shriek, she jumped up on her feet in shock, pushing Harry off her in progress.

Harry had moaned at her to stop.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Harry?" she asked incredulously, staring down at the crumpled form at her feet, before she dove to his side. "Harry?"

"'m fne," the figure moaned, hardly audible.

"Ohmygod, HARRY!" Hermione cried out, her arms shaking helplessly as she wanted to hug him, but didn't dare to touch him at the same time.

Carefully, she brushed the hair and some dirt out of his face. "How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," he croaked.

Hermione had to laugh, tears running down her face. "Silly man!" she chided him softly, caressing his cheek. "Honestly, how do you feel?" she coaxed.

"'m alive... In your arms... Feel fine," Harry whispered powerlessly, managing a small smile. "Hurts, though," he added. "We safe?"

Hermione scanned the perimeter. "As much as we can be, at the moment. We should be going, though. They might come back. Can you stand?"

Harry weakly tried to sit up, and managed with her help. He took a sharp breath when she touched his back.

"Sorry," Hermione whispered, supporting him by his shoulders, instead. "Thank you," she whispered as she placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Got a kiss out of it. Totally worth it," Harry groaned, and suddenly froze. "You're hurt!" he said, wiping blood off her face.

"That's mostly Wormtail's," she said, flinching when he touched a cut over her eye. "I need to find your wand, though, my leg's bleeding badly. I can't cast that spell with your arm, and you are in no state to use magic," she said, stumbling to her feet and towards the spot where Barty had dropped Harry's wand.

_**ooOOoo**_

"So you used my arm? Now that's strange," Harry said as he watched Hermione mend the wound on her thigh, and bringing him up to speed.

"I had to make do with what I had. It worked. Better than this spell here. Hope it won't leave a scar," she frowned.

"Shall I kiss and make it better?"

"You wish," Hermione huffed.

"I do."

"Well, you earned yourself some points today, so I'll consider it. But we need to get going. Can you walk?"

Harry sighed. "With help, I'll manage. I think we're not alone, but I'm not sure. There is a town over there, though," he said, waving towards a direction. "I heard a car starting."

"Good," Hermione said, routing through her jeans pockets. Apart from the halves of her wand she had summoned earlier, she found about half a pound in coins. "We can call someone if we find a phone."

"Or ask someone for help," Harry offered.

"The way we're looking, I'm hoping for a pay phone. Less questions," Hermione noted. "On that note," she added, and started quickly cleaning them as good as she could. "Almost presentable."

"You look fine. Now help me stand," Harry chuckled weakly.

_**ooOOoo**_

Even though that town was surprisingly close, which in retrospect should have been obvious - where else should a graveyard be - it took them quite some time to get there, considering Harry's state.

Harry leaned against the side of the lone payphone at the main square, which was a kind way of saying that there was a bit open space and a church near an intersection.

"Granger orthodontics," Mary, the receptionist, answered the phone.

"Mary, this is Hermione, get one of my parents on the phone, now, it's urgent!"

"What kind of urgent, they both..." Mary started chatting, and Hermione cut her off, harshly.

"Get them now, it's life or death urgent!"

"Ok, ok," Mary huffed, but dropped the phone.

A few moments later, her dad was on the phone. "Hermione? What's wrong?"

"Dad, we got kidnapped," Hermione started.

"YOU GOT WHAT?"

"Dad, we escaped, I'm slightly hurt, Harry is in a bad state, but ok. I don't have much time, I only had a few pence on me, and I don't want to borrow a phone and prompt questions. You need to pick us up, we're stuck in a townlet in the middle of nowhere," Hermione explained in a rush, while she heard her dad barking orders about closing for today, and telling her mother that Hermione had an accident.

"We're on our way the moment you can tell me where you are," he replied.

"We're in Little Hangleton, I saw a road sign that says we're close to Barnard Castle, if that helps," Hermione replied.

"Barnard Castle? You're in Yorkshire?"

"You know it?"

"There is a skeet club up there," her father replied.

"Stay there. Is there a pub or something?" Henry commanded and asked.

"Yes, an inn right across the street from us. I'm getting the beeps, dad!"

"Ok, I can be there in four or five hours, maybe less if I floor it on the motorway. Stay safe, we love you."

Before the connection broke off, Hermione could hear her mother in the background, sending people home, and then she heard only the phone bleating in her ear.

"Alright. Harry, they're on their way, let's sit down in the inn and wait for them," she said, eyeing Harry cautiously.

"Sitting sounds great," Harry wheezed. My back is killing me, and I feel sore, all over."

Hermione, even though her leg hurt badly, had to steady Harry on the way to the house, and even hold out the door for him, as he was too much in pain to pull on it.

"Dear god, what happened to you?" the woman cleaning a table cried out when they came in. "Why aren't you two in school?"

"My boyfriend took a bad stumble while hiking, we're waiting for our parents to pick us up," Hermione spouted the first excuse that came to her mind, ignoring the second question.

"Running along the paths like turtle-doves, weren't you? Young, in love and stupid," the woman replied with a shake of her head. "Take the corner table, he can stretch out on the bench. Want something? Do you even have money?"

Hermione shook her head as she guided Harry over. "Used my last to call my parents. They'll pick up the tab."

"Ok, fine with me, two hot chocolates, then? You two look like you need something to warm you up, and a pick-me-up," the women replied, finishing wiping down the table, brushing the crumbs into her open left hand.

Harry sighed as he slowly laid down on the bench, flinching when his back touched it.

"That bad?" The woman, obviously the only one working here, asked from the bar, where she worked a coffee machine to warm up some milk. "Shall I get you an ambulance? There is no doctor in this town, but Dr. Harris two towns over is a nice guy," she started talking.

"No, thank you - my parents are doctors. He simply fell stupid, and sprained his back," Hermione replied.

"Suit yourself," the woman replied while putting the two steaming mugs on a tray, carrying it over to them.

"Here you are... Call me if you need something more, I'll be in the kitchen."

_**ooOOoo**_

About an hour later, the door chimed, opening to reveal Hermione's parents. They rushed towards the table, while Hermione was still stunned by their early presence and the fact that her father was carrying one of his guns, casually leaning it over his shoulder, but his hand on the trigger, though.

"Darling, are you alright? How are you, Harry?" Margret asked hastily.

Hermione was still processing data when Remus entered, with Sirius behind him. "Oh!" she sighed.

"Yes, darling, your mum had the idea to ask them for help - Remus turned the car into a portthingy while Sirius helped me get this, just in case. Now answer the question."

"I got some scrapes and a scar from a cut I healed, and Harry says he's fine, which means he's inches from death, but will recover," Hermione replied. Harry confirmed with a grunt.

"That was faster than expected! You should take better care of your children," the woman suddenly grumbled from the kitchen door behind the bar.

"We'll be going, now," Henry replied. "What do we owe you?" He asked the innkeeper, leaning the gun against the table, and walking over to her, producing his wallet.

"Remus spelled it?" Hermione whispered to her mother.

"Sirius. Looks like an umbrella to Muggles. How do you feel?"

"Beat up. Dizzy, headache, and my leg burns," Hermione answered.

"Might be a concussion. What about your leg?"

"I got cut badly, I closed it, but it hadn't stopped hurting."

"We'll look at it later, now let's get out," Margret replied with a supportive smile, reaching out to help her up.

Hermione dropped back onto her seat with a hiss when she tried to stand.

Remus was quickly at her side, eyeing the wound through the rip in her jeans. "You _episkeyed_ it?"

"Yes."

"That won't do, it already started bucking, Sirius, help Harry, we need to get her into the car so I can look after that wound! Give us ten minutes or so, ok?"

_**ooOOoo**_

"_Episkey_ is not good enough for such a wound," Remus commented as they left the inn, heading for the car. "It's only for small cuts. This wound will scar badly if we don't treat it right, and might even leave you with a limp."

"Get into the back, we'll take her in the middle," he told Margret.

"Ok, first, we need to get a better look at the wound, the trousers are in the way," Remus spoke.

Before he could say anything else, Hermione had already buckled in the seat and pushed her jeans down to her knees, sitting there in her knickers.

"Hermione!" Margret cried out, while Remus almost broke his neck when he averted his face.

"What? I would strip naked if he can get rid of this," Hermione hissed as she pointed the ugly welt on her right thigh out.

Margret gasped when she became aware of how vivid the wound was. She harrumphed, but chose to remain silent.

"I was thinking more along the lines of vanishing the fabric of your pants on that leg," Remus gasped, still staring everywhere but at her.

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "Oh! Why didn't you say so," she stammered as she pulled her pants up and buttoned them.

"Because you dropped your pants as quickly as if Harry were in here," her mother whispered cattily.

"We got no time for this," Remus said as he turned around and vanished the leg of her trousers with a lazy flick of his wand. He took a sharp breath when he saw it.

"That's bad, I hoped it was smaller. And it's already infected. I'm afraid I'll have to reopen and clean it before I can mend it properly. That will hurt," he said in an apologetic voice. "And since you have either a concussion or a stunner-head, I can't stun you to spare you the experience."

"Will it heal without a scar?" Hermione asked. She wasn't vain, but a angry, bulging, ten inch scar on her right thigh was well beyond of what she'd endure.

"It will leave only a thin line, almost invisible if you don't tan too much," Remus replied, which made Hermione huff.

"As if I'd get any tan, at all. Let's get it done."

"Okay, then. For all it helps, I'm sorry," Remus said in an apologetic voice.

"_Impedimentia_!"

Hermione froze as if someone had flipped a switch.

"That will keep her from moving around and making things worse," Remus explained, lighting the tip of his wand with a pink light. "Now, once I opened the wound, I want to pull it open, so I can clean it, and then pull at the edges to force it shut when I am mending it. Can you do this?" he asked Margret, who huffed back at him in disdain.

"I'm a dentist. I've done worse to people."

_**ooOOoo**_

Ten minutes later, everyone was in the car, and Hermione curled up against her mother and Harry.

"You were brave. I'm sure it will heal properly, now." Remus tried to console her.

"Ok, can we get the full story now? Harry could tell us only a part of it," Henry inquired from the driver's seat, turning back so he could see them.. "What happened?"

Hermione sniffled once more, but sat up, wiping her face with her hand. "Professor Moody wasn't real. He was someone Pettigrew and L-Lord-You-know-who called Barty."

"Barty? The only one that comes to mind would be Barty Crouch Junior, but he's long dead, twelve years or so," Sirius interrupted, from his spot at the passenger side.

"I didn't recognize him," Hermione replied. "Anyway, he kidnapped us with a portkey, and when we arrived, Harry knocked him out, and then Pettigrew cast the killing curse at me, and Harry took it for me," she sobbed, reaching for Harry, who flinched, but held the hug.

"You got bloody guts, Harry. How did you know you could take that curse?" Sirius asked, stalling when he saw the boy's face. "You didn't, right? You just wanted to save her, giving your life for her, even knowing the next spell would kill her, anyway, right?" he sighed."Thank Merlin it worked out, this time, but you really need learn to think before you act, someday, pup."

"We owe you, son," Henry said, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "Whatever you need, whenever, it's yours the moment you ask."

Margret agreed to that statement, leaning over to hug the still entwined kids, putting a kiss on first Hermione's, then Harry's head. Harry froze for a moment when she did so, but then relaxed again.

"Pumpkin, can you tell us what happened next? You are the only one who knows," Henry cajoled.

"I tried to fight back, but they caught me and tied me to that stone. Then they made a potion in that huge stone cauldron. You-know-who is something like a ugly, malformed baby, and they wanted to make him a new body, I think. They used bone of his father from a grave, and Pet..." she told them, pausing as her stomach heaved at the thought of what had happened.

"He cut off his hand for the potion, and then he wanted to use my blood for it. I managed to grind through the ropes by that time, and fought back, but not before he had cut me," she said, unconsciously rubbing her still raw wrists and her leg wound over and over, again.

"It's okay, honey," her mother cooed.

"NO! It's not! I fought him, I knocked him out, that Barty guy and I had a spell fight, he disarmed me and I had no wand, and then I used Harry's arm as a wand and used him as cover against spells! I scalded that man with the potion I toppled on him, he apparated away, and then there was Pettigrew again, and he choked me, and I hit him, kicked him, but he was stronger. I grabbed his arm and I – oh god – I – I," she wailed, coming to a stop when she started to retch. Remus quickly cast a charm at her that seemed to calm her stomach, and then a couple more that calmed her down.

"Calming charms. She needs rest. She's going to break if we go on like that," he said when Hermione curled up against her mum and started dozing off.

"We need... to go there," Harry stated weakly, to everyone's surprise.

"Are you crazy? Why?" Henry inquired.

"Pettygrew is there... Sirius... could get free..."

"He'll probably be gone already, it's been over an hour," Remus replied.

Sirius agreed. "Right! Not worth running into what might be a trap, as sweet as it might sound."

"No... you don... 't... understand," Harry wheezed. "He... 's dead."

"What?" Four different voices inquired in unison.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still asleep. "Was already... dead... when we left... No heart...beat... Hermione was full... of blood, said... it was his..." he explained, fighting for every word.

"Take your time, Harry," Remus spoke softly. "You just survived your second killing curse and probably a _C__ruciatus_, if the twitch in your cheek is a sign. You need rest."

"Cruciatus?" Henry inquired softly after leaning over to Sirius.

"Torture curse, nasty. All your body hurts like roasted alive," Sirius whispered back.

Harry didn't give up, easily. "Must... go... Gives... a sense... A happy... end..."

"It's too dangerous," Henry spoke.

"Please... you... promised..." Harry wheezed.

Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "That's our lad. Could ask for everything, and uses it to help someone else."

_**ooOOoo**_

"Seems safe to me," Remus said after he had cast half a dozen detection spells.

"Ok, Sirius and I take the lead, Henry, you watch our back. Harry, you stay in the middle, listen and watch for everything," he commanded. He knew very well that Harry was hardly able to walk, but the boy had insisted to come, and giving him a token duty would make the lad stay out of their way if something went wrong. Hermione was holding up well. They left her dozing in the car, Margret behind the wheel, with firm orders. She would drive all the way to London, not looking back, if the slightest thing happened, but Remus wasn't expecting a fight. After all, worst case - if Harry had been wrong on all accounts - there would be a single opponent, who was badly hurt, and an unconscious Wormtail.

Slowly, they approached the spot of the fight. They could see the cauldron, about a hundred yards ahead, when suddenly, Harry noticed an owl swooping in. It took until it attempted to land on Harry's shoulder for Remus to realize what it meant.

"SIRIUS! AURORS! GET OUT!" Remus shouted, just in time.

There was a series of pops and cracks, and suddenly, Sirius was gone, and a group of four red-robed wizards or witches was standing next to and amongst them.

"Hold! We're friendly!" Remus shouted out. Everyone froze in their spot, wands pointed, and Henry's shotgun right in the face of a tall, black man who seemed extremely nervous about that.

"Surrender your arms," one of the men, facing Harry's wand, said. "You are outnumbered!"

"Only if you surrender yours," Henry snarked, not bulging a bit. "I can take out two or three of you thugs before you even blink, so it seems even to me." Harry growled in agreement, the adrenaline pushing him to almost normal for the moment.

"We are law enforcement!" the man shouted, angrily.

"Not in my world," Henry replied, calmly, gripping his gun a bit tighter, watching for the slightest movement.

"Would you please shut up, Berger?" the black man said forcefully, his eyes riveted on the two large tubes pointing at his face.

"What's going on here, who are you? I see Potter with you, where is the girl?" he asked Henry.

Henry wasn't in the best mood. "Safe! I am her father! Who are you?" he barked back.

"My apologies. Auror Shacklebolt, these are Aurors McEntyre, Berger, and Tonks. We were owl-tracing the kids after the abduction. Auror McEntyre witnessed it at Hogsmeade and called for reinforcements."

"Aurors, step down," that man commanded, slowly lowering his wand, keeping it pointed away from anyone until Henry took the gun out of his face.

"Mister Potter, pleased to see you safe," Shacklebolt said, before addressing Remus. "You seem familiar, Sir."

"I'm Remus Lupin, registered Werewolf," Remus replied with a slight smile, that slightly increased when Shacklebolt's face opened up in recognition. "The kids managed to escape and fight the attackers off, and then went to the nearby town to phone-call their parents, who contacted me, and I made an emergency portkey to get us here to help them."

"I'll pay the fine, later," he added when Auror Berger made motions as if to say something.

"We were just going to the fight scene, I believe this would be of interest to you?" Henry said.

"Of course, Mister... Granger, right?" Auror Shacklebolt replied. "The kids are alright? Need medical attention?"

"Don't think so. I mended a couple wounds on Miss Granger, and Mister Potter is," Remus replied, interrupted by a colourful expletive by the young female Auror.

"There are children present, Auror Tonks!" Shaklebolt barked.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry! But you would not believe this," the woman stammered. "I checked the kid, and Potter reads positive of killing curse exposure."

Every Auror turned and stared at her, and then at the boy who, while obviously weak on his legs, was very much alive.

Remus couldn't help but smile. "Indeed, Auror Tonks. Mister Potter survived his second killing curse, today. On top, the whole episode was a failed attempt of restoration of You-Know-Who by some of his followers."

Shacklebolt stared at Remus for what seemed an eternity. "I want to see the scene, now!"

_**ooOOoo**_

"Watch out!" one Auror cried, and four spells were cast, almost in unison.

The huge snake next to the toppled cauldron had no chance, especially since there was no way she could move with such a huge meal inside her. There was a piercing cry when the piercing charms perforated her head.

"That was creepy," Auror Tonks noted. "Didn't know snakes could cry out. There seems to be something big inside of it."

"Must have... eaten... Pettigrew..." Harry wheezed. Without adrenaline pumping, he was back to just above kitten strength levels when it came to walking.

Auror Berger had about enough for today. "Are you kidding me? Pettigrew is long dead, Black killed him!"

"He isn't, we met him last year at Hogwarts," Harry replied, angrily, his fatigue forgotten, again. "He framed Black, and hid for years as his animagus form, a rat."

"You must have hit your head, Mister Potter. That is ridiculous," the man laughed. Remus had to quietly reach out and grab Henry's arm to keep him from doing something rash. Annoying as he was, Berger was doing a fine job in keeping Harry awake.

"Look for yourself," Harry stated with a glare, pointing at the snake.

"I will. Berger, you and Tonks scan for evidence, in silence, if you please," Shaklebolt spoke as he stepped forward and gave his wand a twirl. With a swift flick, the huge reptile's stomach was cut open. Apart of a sudden stench, it revealed the body of Pettigrew.

"Merlin's skinny legs, that looks like Peter – I know him from before I started Auror school," McEntyre gasped as he took a closer look.

"We'll find out after analysis, bag him up," Shacklebolt ordered.

"He's missing an arm, though."

"He cut that off for the potion that was supposed to give You-Know-Who a full body," Harry replied. "He bled out while trying to stop Hermione from escaping."

"Berger, get a sample of that potion, there might be some left. Any other evidence?"

"A wand and a splinched arm with a Dark Mark on it," Auror Tonks reported.

"That should belong to a man named Barty, he escaped when Hermione toppled the cauldron on him," Harry replied. "He was using Polyjuice potion to pass for Professor Moody at school."

"Barty? I wonder if it has something to do with Crouch, Sir. First his elf at the World Cup incident, then he goes missing, now another Barty. Too many coincidences for my taste, Sir," Auror McEntyre stated, while conjuring a body bag and transferring the body into it.

Shacklebolt nodded, and took the wand. "Mister Potter? Do you recognize that wand?"

Harry had to take a closer look. "That could be Pettigrew's, Hermione disarmed him briefly after she broke the ropes she was tied with."

"Where?"

Harry pointed at the stone Hermione had pointed out, earlier, and Auror Tonks rushed there. "Ropes, blood stained and broken. Got them!"

"If you allow, I went to school with Pettigrew, and I am fairly sure it's his," Remus interrupted.

"Alright, we'll ask Ollivander, anyway," Shacklebolt replied.

"A final formality, we need to check the wands of the kids," Auror McEntyre said. "All use of magic will be considered reasonable, of course, under these circumstances."

Harry produced his wand. "Hermione's got broken, she has the pieces on her, though."

The man cast a charm over the wand that made some foggy images appear over Harry's wand.

"If it's broken, it's useless. Yours shows some healing and cleaning charms."

"Hermione was mending our wounds and making us presentable for the walk into town, so we not raise too much attention," Harry replied.

"Good thinking," Shacklebolt remarked. "Ok, Tonks, Berger, you two sweep the scene again, twice. I want every little bit and crumb found and bagged while McEntyre and I get the full story from the kids," he said while he put the shrunken body bag McEntyre had passed him into a bag.

"Hermione is in no state to answer questions," Henry stated, from his spot aside of the main events, from where he had watched everything, his gun resting in the crook of his left elbow, finger on the trigger guard.

"I understand," Shacklebolt replied. "Would you agree to us taking all of you to London? The kids could get looked at in St. Mungo's, and then we can head to Headquarters to sort this mess out."

"One question – since we got Pettigrew, what does this mean for the charges against Sirius Black?" Harry inquired.

McEntyre blanched when he heard that. "Oh Merlin! He's right, boss - that'll let the trolls loose in the Ministry."

"Damn sure it will. You know what - I'll go with them, you stay and extract confidentiality oaths from Berger and Tonks. This case is confidential, now - I'll take it directly to Bones!"

**AN:**

Kudos if you know the title without Googling it.

Thanks to alix and embi for helping.

Well, the winter has continued flipping me the bird. We had another bit of snow, some rain, a massive fucking storm that ripped the roof of my stables (Luckily, no horse was injured, they can move very quick if they have to), and played a game of pool with the barn tents. I managed to make a 'new' one out of the parts left from the three I had. At least the stable was insured, let's hope the company coughs it up...

I finally have a plan how to deal with all this shit – I'm getting out of here. I bought my wife and myself tickets to London for Easter, and I'm going to run into that fucking brick wall until I am on 9 ¾.

Plan B, there should be a Tardis somewhere at Earl's Court, maybe I can fire that thing up.

(First vacation in 6 years, so I'm going to make the most of it, even if it's just two days.)


	18. Same old, same old

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 17: Same old, same old**

"I'm out of ideas," the healer, Harry hadn't remembered his name, said.

"The good news, your vital signs are improving rapidly, now that we treated the Cruciatus exposure. You might feel the occasional twinge from that and should avoid physical labour for the next month, unless you enjoy cramps," he chuckled, enjoying his own joke. Alone.

"What do you mean – you can't do anything about this?" Margret inquired, while Hermione continued to stroke Harry's shoulder softly.

"Madam, your daughter was easy to treat, a blood replenishing potion, some potions for her concussion, and a little tweak on the wound to improve healing. But this," he said, waving over Harry's back, "I don't even know what it is! It doesn't respond to any healing spell in the books, and even those that aren't in them are working. It's as if the magic slides off it. Same for diagnosis spells. I can say that the tissue is messed up, but I can't get details. Neither could any colleague."

Harry flinched when he heard that. He still had no idea what his back looked like, all he knew was that he spent the better part of this day on this table, lying on his stomach, while a couple of healers looked at him, tried something, scratched their heads, shrugged, and called another healer.

"Same for his eyes," the healer said, causing Harry and Hermione both to flinch. Hermione had reminded him to renew the glamour, but it almost immediately had started to fade. Hermione had saved the situation with an award-worthy performance of wailing over what 'they' had done to Harry's eyes.

"Could it be some side-effect of that curse?" Henry inquired.

The healer shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. We have no experience with people surviving that curse, even less with people who did that, twice! His back might heal up and only leave a scar, like his forehead, eventually. But I'm going along with the theory of a potion interaction. We found traces of one in his shirt, but not enough to tell what it was."

He looked up at the opening door, which revealed the returning Auror Shacklebolt.

"Auror, perfect timing! Do you have anything on the potion he might have been splattered with?"

"I'm afraid not," Shacklebolt replied, a stern looking female Auror entering behind him. "It was deteriorating fast, we were unable to determinate any ingredients. How are the kids?"

"Miss Granger is distraught, but physically fine, Mister Potter will recover, eventually, although he remains injured by an interaction with an unidentified potion. And a killing curse."

"Is that the official report?"

"It will be."

"Not until tomorrow evening. They were not here, today, understood?" Shacklebolt replied. "Do they have all the medication they need?"

"I've done all I can, both have their potions for the next days," the healer replied evenly, ignoring the Auror's antics.

"Good. Now if you excuse us, we're on official business," Shacklebolt said, gesturing towards the door.

The healer looked a bit put off, but still left the room. At least, he tried to. He only was allowed to leave after Shacklebolt gave the Aurors blocking the door a nod. This time, the healer wasn't wearing a dismissive mien on his face.

The moment he stepped out, another Auror stepped in, closing the door behind him, and started to charm the room.

Henry was trying to inquire, but the woman raised a hand in a stopping gesture, then putting her finger on her lips, gesturing him to be quiet. Curious, Henry glanced at Remus for instructions. Remus shrugged, and signalled him to be calm and quiet.

About a minute later, the Auror was done. "We're clear and isolated, Madam!"

Hearing this, the woman slowly pulled her wand out of her sleeve, tapping her head with it. Remus smirked when his assumption became true, and the woman changed her appearance right before their eyes.

"Madam Bones," he greeted her. "Do I need to leave the room?"

"I believe this isn't necessary. For the record, you, and all others had surrendered your wands, and your other weapons," she said with a nod to Henry still carrying his gun, "before I entered the room."

Henry couldn't help but smirk. A healer had already asked him to surrender that weapon, to which he had only replied that everyone else in this room was armed, as well. There was no way he'd let go of it until they were safe at home.

"Good evening, by the way. Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, DMLE for short," the woman introduced herself, shaking hands with everyone.

"Why all this security?" Hermione asked, straightforward like always.

"Because if your story is correct, I'm going to tap-dance on a lot of powerful toes. Auror Shacklebolt realized this and went straight to me. I'm now personally in charge of these investigations, and if only a peep of this reaches the wrong ears, this will turn into a political nightmare," the woman replied, with Shacklebolt actually smiling briefly as she did.

"What exact kind of powerful toes are we talking about?" Henry inquired, carefully.

"I've heard from my niece, already, that these two don't do things half-way, but this is almost insane. If the story is true – and I have a shrunken freshly deceased body of a long-dead man in my pocket which says so – they will all but topple our government," Madam Bones replied with a shake of her head, before starting to count things off on her fingers.

"The former head of DMLE for unlawful imprisonment of Sirius Black, who was never officially charged. The former Minister of Magic, for ordering an innocent man to be detained infinitely, and by extension the whole Wizengamot for letting that order stand," she explained, taking a deep breath.

"Wow," Henry whistled.

Remus was less impressed. "There is no way this would pass – the Wizengamot would never try one of their own over this."

"Correct. It will, though, persuade them to let me go against the main culprits. Crouch will have to answer for the imprisonment, and Fudge will roast for interfering in a criminal case. For some reason, he had given orders to lock the Black files away – even I had to call in a few favours to get them! Took me hours," she grumbled.

"Worst, after reading them and disappearing them, knowing that the man hadn't even been charged with anything, he had ordered to have Black kissed by a Dementor on capture. Since he already was attacked at least once, we might be talking attempted homicide, the least, conspiracy to murder," she added.

"I see," Hermione replied. "And the moment he finds out, Fudge would steamroll you if he can act first."

Madam Bones smiled back at her. "Susan told me you were clever. That man is personally responsible for most of the things that are wrong in this country. Under his personal orders, Auror forces were reduced by 70 percent. We can only respond to major things, heck, we can barely patrol the streets right now. And don't even get me started about him pardoning everyone of everything, for the right price. He and his friends need to be gone, but we had nothing to start with. Now, if we can get him and squeeze gently, all that network will unravel."

"So you are here to take my statement," Hermione asked.

"Yes, although I'd prefer if you'd let me retrieve a memory. That would have more weight in court. Don't worry, it's painless," Bones replied.

"That's a matter of interpretation. Reliving that kind of situation is not what I call painless. Anyway, I'd do it, but I'll only agree under one condition," Hermione answered right back, feeling her mother step up closer behind her, and then the comforting weight of her arm around her shoulder.

"If it's reasonable..." Bones carefully agreed, only to stare at the girl in front of her in shock.

"I want you to use the removal version of that spell."

"You know a lot about this spell, young lady. You are aware that using that spell and a pensieve to hold the memory, it could take months for the memory to return fu..." Madam Bones started to lecture, stopping herself.

"I see. Of course we can do that, Miss Granger," she replied, softly. Hermione gave her a weak smile from her mother's embrace. She had planned to let Harry do this for her the moment they'd stepped out of this hospital, anyway.

Harry, who had watched that conversation with a darkening expression, cleared his throat.

"I think you'll need a second pensieve, Madam Bones."

"To my knowledge, Mister Potter, you were unconscious for most of the incident," Madam Bones replied.

"True, but I think I can offer you something just as good," Harry replied. "How about a memory of me encountering Black and Pettigrew, with both giving a matching statement of what really happened? And a statement by Fudge that this must not be true, ordering us to drop this?"

It was almost disturbing to see the smile that spread out on Madam Bones' face.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Good, that will seal the Fudge case," Bones said with a very pleased tone, after she had returned from the small pensieve she had reviewed the supplied memories in.

"Kingsley, change of plan – you need to assemble a second team. Two squads, no newbies. Departure immediately, Crouch Manor, you'll take the lead," she commanded. "Scrimgeour will take over for Fudge."

"Of course, Madam," Kingsley replied, professional enough to ask questions later, and hurrying to carry out her orders. After all, he already had a good guess about the why.

Henry and Margret were still freaked out slightly that Bones had been physically sucked into that small goblet, just minutes ago. Harry and Hermione had been just as shocked, but their long exposure to magic phenomena has hardened their nerves against that kind of surprises. Also, it helped that they were dead on their feet.

"Are we done?" Henry finally asked. "It's been a long day, and the kids need to rest."

"My apologies, Mister Granger. I believe it will be best if you stay available until the raids are concluded," Madam Bones replied. "For your own security."

"When will that be?" Hermione inquired, curiously.

"Well, Fudge has the habit to arrive at his office at 11, so I guess I'll be arresting him at 10, having breakfast at home," Madam Bones replied with a cruel smirk, after checking her watch. "That will be after The Prophet had gone out, so we get another day."

"What about the kids," Remus inquired.

"You two will be escorted to Hogwarts tomorrow evening," Bones replied. "Aurors will escort you there, and give Dumbledore a report that exceeds the brief explanation we have given him currently. I guess around 6pm, and knowing healers their potion for tonight will knock them out for about that long."

"That was not exactly what I meant. The moment you get Fudge, you'll start digging deeper, and he would be the first Minister not being bribed by at least two or three factions, right? Wouldn't they become a target?" Remus asked what Margret was wrestling with herself to mention for quite a while now.

Bones was almost contrite when she replied. "Of course, they will be in the spotlight for a few days, but there is nothing to be had in going after them. The Fudge-Black case won't be helped by them disappearing, and the eventual corruption cases are disjointed. Still, we will send, let's say, two more Aurors to Hogwarts. Officially, they will be increased security for the Tournament, but they will be hovering around these two. And I'll have your house guarded until tomorrow. Satisfied?"

"Of course, Madam. I just wanted to address that issue," Remus replied, while Margret, feeling a lot lighter, gave him a thankful nod. Even Henry harrumphed in agreement.

"Do you need transport? I heard your vehicle broke down," Bones inquired.

Henry sighed when she mentioned that. Turns out that even a German-built car did not survive a second portkey. The first one had only fried the radio, but after the second, it refused to start. Henry also had a feeling the suspension had taken a hit from the second landing, which was much rougher than the first.

"I could have your detail side-along you home," she offered.

_**ooOOoo**_

Eighteen and a half hours later, Auror Shacklebolt knocked at the Granger door, dressed in a traditional African garment that raised a bit of attention with the residents of the street.

"At last. We were running out of topics to kill the time with," Henry spoke, as diplomatic as ever.

"Apologies, Mr. Granger, but the raid at Mister Crouch's home unearthed some evidence that demanded immediate attention," the tall man replied in a hushed tone. "May I come in?"

Stepping aside, Henry let him in, before leading him to the living room.

"Good evening," Shacklebolt greeted upon entering. "Missus Granger, Mister Lupin. Miss Granger, Mister Potter, are you feeling well?"

Harry gave him a weird look from his place on the couch, curled up in a heap of pillows, still twitching, occasionally. Hermione replied for both of them. "We're fine."

"I guess so," Margret added. "That potion knocked them out for more than twelve hours. Slept like stones. If Remus hadn't warned us, we'd been scared."

"Healers almost always lace first night doses with dreamless sleep or draught of living death, especially for crime victims," Shacklebolt replied. "They say it helps them heal," he explained, withholding his personal opinion.

"You said there was something going on with the Crouch raid?" Henry inquired.

"You'll read it in the papers. I believe we should be going," Shacklebolt evaded.

In front of the house, two young females were waiting for them. "If you allow me to introduce, Auror Tonks, Auror Dimaggio. They will escort you to Hogwarts and stay there as your detail," Shacklebolt explained.

Harry was slightly confused. Neither of the two young women in surprisingly not out of place clothing was looking like the Auror Tonks he remembered.

He almost jumped in shock when one girl's nose suddenly changed its shape.

"I can change my outer appearance at will, Mister Potter," she replied with a boyish grin. "Shall we?" She prompted, pulling a piece of rope from her pocket.

Saying farewell to the Grangers and Remus, they stepped into the entrance, where Auror Tonks held out the rope to them. At the count of three, they were rushing through the ether, once more.

_**ooOOoo**_

Arriving at the gates of Hogwarts, there was a brief stumble when Auror Tonks slipped at landing. "Sorry, I can be a klutz, sometimes," she apologized, lifting herself off Harry.

"It's ok," Harry wheezed from the ground. "I can't stand portkeys, either. Literally," he tried himself at subtle humour as he laid there on his back.

"Shall we help you up or are you enjoying the view," Auror Dimaggio asked with a smirk. Only then, it occurred to Harry that he had three pairs of knickers in his field of vision when he looked up at the three girls. He briefly wondered when Hermione had changed, until he remembered that Remus had transfigured her torn jeans into a jeans mini-skirt after he took care of her injuries.

Then, he realized he was still in the same position. Blushing, he quickly sat up, stammering apologies.

"It's ok, if you were doing it on purpose, I'd have done more than just teasing you," Dimaggio replied as she held out a hand to help him up. "Also, your girlfriend might have objected, I guess. Apart from the fact that I could be your mother."

"Really?" Hermione replied. "You don't look that age."

"Darling, if you're five feet two, skinny, act the part, and use the slightest hint of make-up, you can pass as a teen any time," Dimaggio replied with a giggly laugh.

"Let's get into the castle, it's been years! Wonder if it's still like I remember it," she said as she took lead of the procession.

"Come on, cousin, clop, clop," Auror Tonks spurred Harry on, making a shooing motion with her hands.

"Cousin?" Harry inquired, slowly following Dimaggio. Hermione quickly came to his help, steadying him as he limped along.

"Oy, Dimmy, slow down, he's still tender," Tonks called out, before replying. "My mother is a Black, so we're cousins. Three times removed or something, don't know the tree that well."

"Oh! Nice. How are you standing with Sirius?" Harry intended to chat time away.

"Sorry, I can't speak about this," Tonks replied.

"Really? That bad?" Harry asked, incredulously.

Tonks shook her head, smiling, taking a quick step to his side. "No, I literally can't talk about this, right now. Confidentiality oath. Until a case goes public, I can't talk about anything related when people not in the know might listen in," she whispered in his ear, before falling back.

"Oh!" Harry said as he realized. "Later", he whispered to his curious girlfriend.

"What is it with your shape-shifting," Hermione inquired, instead. "You didn't use a wand, as far as I could see."

"Correct. I'm a Metamorphmagus. I can change my outer appearance at will."

"You mean, like an Animagus?" Hermione asked.

"Not quite. You can learn to be an Animagus, but to my knowledge, Metamorphmagi are born that way. I never heard of anyone who wasn't shape shifting as kid, already. And I only change my shape. I can only barely alter my height, and even if I pose as a fat man, I'd still have all my own plumbing inside, and weight the same. I also am restricted to human basic form, even though I have a lot of leeway within that boundaries," she explained, finishing with a quick demonstration.

The result was that they needed to slow down even more. Harry had hurt himself laughing when she let her hair rotate through all colours of the rainbow, while using various animal snouts for a nose.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Miss Granger, Mister Potter, I'm glad to see you safe and back at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall welcomed them at the doors of the castle, proper.

"We feel the same," Hermione replied politely, while Harry just groaned.

"May I inquire about the injuries you sustained this time, Mister Potter?" McGonagall asked, almost compassionate.

"The usual, I'm fine," he replied, not in the mood for pleasantries.

Tonks in the background couldn't help but snort. Briefly rooting through a pocket, she handed McGonagall two rolls of parchment.

Opening one, McGonagall read it with a shake of her head. "Another two Aurors, undercover? Don't you think we have enough security, already?"

"That's rich. You might want to look at the two students we're just returning after their abduction, and then think again, Professor," Dimaggio snarked from the background.

"I guess you might have a point. How do you believe you can blend in?" McGonagall replied, her face once more a stoic mask.

In reply, Dimaggio simply transfigured her clothes into a Beauxbatons uniform, while Tonks made herself a Ravenclaw robe, while changing into a nondescript girl with longish brown hair.

"Ah, Miss Tonks. Good to see you again," McGonagall replied dryly, before opening the second scroll.

"Dear Merlin!" she gasped, staring at Harry in utter disbelief. "You survived... Another?"

"Yes, Professor. And if you don't mind, I'd rather retire for the day, I'm not feeling too well," Harry almost whispered.

"Of course, Mister Potter. Dinner is well under way, shall the elves deliver food to your dorm?"

Harry exchanged a short glance with Hermione, who shook her head, as well. "No, we both have eaten, already, and to be frank, after that killing curse, I feel dead on my feet."

Walking on as the Assistant Headmistress let them pass, Tonks could not help but snigger. "That's a Galleon for the bad pun jar, Mister Potter."

_**ooOOoo**_

At five am in the morning, Hermione padded down the stairs into the common room, after a restless night's sleep.

Not exactly to her surprise, she found Harry there. Not on the couch, but lying across the seats of four chairs pushed together, three under his legs and one under his head, his shoulders barely resting on it.

"Hello, Peaches," he whispered the moment she stepped off the stairs, not opening his eyes.

"Hey, Harry. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Does it hurt that bad?" she said, coming closer.

Once she stood over him, he opened his eyes.

"Remember what I told you about the Skele-Gro? The aftermath of a Cruciatus feels about the same, and my back is even worse. I can't lie on it, and I literally can't fall asleep lying on my stomach," he ranted.

"And this contraption works?" Hermione asked, yawning.

"Not really," he replied with an equally large yawn.

"Have you tried lying on your side?" Hermione asked, brushing his fringe out of his face.

"No, I'm an idiot," Harry growled. "Sorry," he immediately apologized. "I tried, but the moment I fall asleep, I instinctively roll over on my back, and there goes my sleep, again. For god's sake, I couldn't even shower! Felt like I was tearing my skin off with hail. I had to wash with a cloth," he huffed, hissing painfully as he moved inadvertently.

"Does it look worse than yesterday?"

Harry huffed. "How can I tell? I haven't seen it, yet. Can't turn my head enough to look."

"Really? You could have used a hand mirror."

Harry huffed, again. "Didn't think of that. There aren't any in our dorm, but I could have conjured one, I guess. You don't look too well, either."

"I don't, but I think I'm three or four hours of sleep ahead of you. I now know why they lace the potions. Thankfully, I silenced my curtains. I would have woken up everybody," Hermione yawned.

"You know what, let's lay down together," she suddenly said. "I'll face the back of the couch, and you'll spoon me. So your back is free, and I'll stick your hands together around me, so you can't roll off. We might get a bit of sleep that way."

Harry yawned deeply. "I'd normally tease you for something sex-related, right now, but I'm too tired. Let's try, but not here. I don't fancy the mob trampling all over us."

"Our lair?" Hermione asked. "And I'll insert some joke you made in the protocol, to keep up your reputation."

"You know," Harry wheezed as he slowly raised himself off his construction. "You have quite a feisty humour when you're tired like that."

"And an even better temper. Get moving, Potter!"

_**ooOOoo**_

"Miss Granger, Mister Potter," a soft voice called out.

"Wake up," the same voice crooned.

"Don't be alarmed," the voice said as Hermione stirred. "You missed class, and I thought I might find you two here," it continued.

Hermione had to blink a few times to realize they were in their lair, on the couch, and Dumbledore was standing next to them.

"One moment, please," she whispered, fishing for Harry's wand and cancelling the charm that held Harry to her, immediately missing the warmth of his body. "Harry is still asleep, and I'd prefer he'd stay that way."

Dumbledore waited patiently until she had disentangled herself enough to sit up and face the Headmaster, still holding Harry's arm to steady him.

"Wouldn't it be better to talk outside, then?" Dumbledore inquired.

Hermione groggily shook her head. "The moment I let go, he'll roll over, and wake up."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Harry was awake all night. He simply can't sleep on his stomach, and his wound makes it impossible to lie on his back as he's used to. Sleeping on the side, he always rolls over one way or the other, and these short naps make him even more tired than he already is."

"I see the problem. I have read the report about his injuries, but it lacks detail. Have you any information on how bad it actually is?"

"The last time I saw it, it was like he was scalded with hot water. The whole skin is pink and wet in a patch about a large as a hand. Was it the same with his forehead?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked up at the ceiling, recalling those events. "Not that bad. And worse. You see, the skin on his face was alright, but he had that wound that we couldn't close, which left that scar. As far as I know, it took months to finally heal."

"So this will take a long time to recover, and leave scars?"

"To be honest, I don't know. With only two known instances of someone surviving a fully cast killing curse, we can't draw any conclusions."

Hermione tried to shrug, but it turned into a big yawn instead.

"You don't seem too rested, either, Miss Granger," Dumbledore commented.

"Honestly, I would be concerned if I didn't have nightmares after what I went through, Headmaster. I believe I woke three times during the last hours, which is actually an improvement to tonight," she replied, barely able to focus. "Harry's so out, he didn't even budge when I jumped," she chuckled. "Scared me a lot at first, until I heard him snore."

Dumbledore took a long look at her over the rim of his spectacles before answering.

"Alas, I set out to find you two, and found I have you. But given your current state, I believe it would be better if I gave you two a pass for today's lessons. Neither of you would be of any use in a classroom."

Turning to leave, he suddenly stopped.

"Oh, I forgot. This copy of The Prophet was dropped for you. You might be interested in it, later," he said, dropping an unusually thick bundle on the table.

"I will advise an elf to drop off Mister Potter's mail, later. Meanwhile, I'll leave you to catch up some sleep," he said, eyeing the window thoughtfully. Flicking his wand towards the window, turning it opaque, which dimmed the light in the room tremendously, he gave Hermione a smile.

"Rest well, Miss Granger, and give Harry my best," he spoke, leaving the room.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Bugger!" Harry cursed when he woke up. Trying to sit up, he realized his head was stuck to Hermione's lap, facing her belly. At some point, she seemed to have sat up and have him transferred to her lap, although Harry was baffled how she managed that without waking him.

"Morning, Harry," she said, reading something that Harry identified as a newspaper, out of the corner of his eye. Realizing that his hands were curled around her rump and resting on her bum. Out of a whim, he decided to give it a pinch, regretting that idea, immediately.

"Bad idea," he wheezed.

"Blame yourself," Hermione replied. "You know I jump when you do that."

"Was too tempting," he mumbled. "Any specific reason I'm stuck to your lap?" he teased.

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't want to be there?"

"No, I mean... Ok, I give up. Unstick me, we might still get some breakfast before class, if we hurry."

"Breakfast is long over, lunch will start in an hour or so, though."

"No way, it's barely dawning."

"No, it's past noon. It's just so dim because Dumbledore charmed the window, so we can sleep better."

"Dumbledore was here? And I didn't notice him?"

"Honestly, Harry. You were so out, someone could have driven a tank through the wall and the room without waking you," Hermione said as she folded the paper.

Retrieving Harry's wand from the desk, she cancelled the spells on Harry, and then the window.

"Gosh, you're right," Harry gasped when the light flooded the room.

"Of course I am," Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes.

"So we're in trouble for missing class because I overslept? I'm sorry," Harry apologized.

"Surprisingly, no. In fact, he excused us for the day, wished us a good sleep and left the paper and our mail for us. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I read it. You know, me and yet not read stuff."

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked as he slowly sat up, scratching his mop.

Hermione reached out for the paper, and slowly unfolded it. "Oh, this, and that. Nothing unusual," she said, seemingly bored, before turning it around to show him.

"BOY WHO LIVES ONCE MORE! - ALMOST DEADLY ABDUCTION AT HOGWARTS!" "Is the school as safe as we believe? Page 2-6"

"BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR NOT DEAD, CURRENTLY ON THE RUN!" "How Barty Crouch Senior helped his son to escape, and became a prisoner on his own home, page 7-9" "SIRIUS BLACK EXONERATED – PETTIGREW STILL ALIVE!" "How a loyal friend was framed by a rat – the full truth about the Potters, page 10-14" "MINISTER FUDGE ARRESTED FOR OBSTRUCTING JUSTICE!" "How the Minister abused his powers for personal gain, page 15-16"

Harry scanned the headlines, covering the entire front page. "Didn't they find anything interesting to write about? Like, how did Puddlemere do?" he replied.

Both managed to hold their serious expressions for about five seconds, before they both broke out in laughter. Hermione jumped to hug Harry, who winced in pain.

"Sorry!" she whined, biting her lip in worry.

"It's ok. Just be careful in the future."

"Is it better, yet?"

Harry moved a bit, testing his limits. "I feel less sore than yesterday, maybe because I finally slept. My limbs aren't cramping, anymore, but my back is still irritating and tender."

"What is that?" Harry asked when he finally saw the table for the first time.

"Your mail. I sorted them into perfumed, normal, parcels and important. Of the last category, there was no mail, at all," Hermione replied mirthfully.

"Can't I just toss that mess in the bin?"

"That would be rude, and I can't stand not reading something. I at least want to know what they wrote, and who wrote it," Hermione said.

"I see, know your enemy and all," Harry chuckled.

He received a brilliant giggle in reply. "Who knows, I might need to claw some eyes in Hogwarts," Hermione told him, in a tone he realized was only half joking.

"You know that I love only you, Peaches," he reminded her, softly nuzzling her neck.

"Taking a killing curse to save my life makes me inclined to believe you," Hermione purred under his ministrations.

"You saved our lives, too," he reminded her, again, switching to nibbling.

"That might mean I love you, too," Hermione said mirthfully, pulling away from him. If he were to do that a bit longer, it would result in things he wasn't healed up enough for, yet.

"Mail," she said teasingly.

Harry looked at the heaps with a hint of desperation. "Want to help me dig through that?"

"Ok, but I'll take the normal pile. Less risk of having to see nude pictures," Hermione said, reaching out for the first letter.

"You think?" Harry replied, hesitating to take a letter from the huge perfumed pile.

"Let's make a bet – if there isn't at least one in there, I'll pose starkers for you," Hermione replied, acting as if she ignored Harry's eyes widening and nostrils flaring. "This one wishes you speedy recovery," she said as she discarded the letter.

"And you're ok with me seeing... Those pictures," Harry asked, trying to regain his composure.

"Harry, you have nude pictures with every newspaper or ad, these days. As long as you are mature about it, I'm fine. This one calls you a rotten liar."

"So no whistling, shouting and hooting?" Harry asked with a smile.

"Prat," Hermione replied, although she smiled, as well.

Sighing, Harry picked one letter and ripped it open, just to sigh, again.

"Good one?" Hermione teased.

"It's only a chest shot," he grumbled.

"Still counts," Hermione replied with a smirk, tossing the next letter away. "Some woman praising you, wanting to invite you for dinner with her and her niece. Cheap attempt at matchmaking."

"Come on Harry – don't pout like that – you got a look at knockers," she continued, teasing.

"Rather've had a look at you," Harry mumbled, sitting up in surprise when Hermione kissed his cheek.

"That's the right attitude. Keep it up till the end, and we might negotiate terms," she whispered in his ear, before returning to her task as if nothing had happened.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Wingardium leviosa," Hermione called out, letting the next letter float over to her, cuddling with Harry on their window bench.

"Playful, aren't we?" Harry chuckled, while accio-ing a new letter. "This is much faster."

"And can smack them in my face. Me and catching?" Hermione replied, making a face at him.

"This one offers to teach me a special kind of magic," Harry laughed. "Impressive picture. Should I take her up on that offer?"

"Aren't you normally in favour of taking every opportunity to learn," he teased when Hermione only snorted in reply.

"Are you done looking at porn? Lunch has started, already," Hermione teased back, nibbling on a sugar quill from one package she had claimed as payment for her help.

"You said it was ok," Harry replied with a broad smirk.

"Don't try your luck, Potter. She's hot, though. Seems familiar," Hermione replied, peeking at the picture.

"I think she was a prefect when we were in first year, Hufflepuff, wasn't she?"

"Oh, right! Who would have thought a Hufflepuff could be such a slut," Hermione snarked.

"Maybe she's just more friendly than others, huh?" Harry joked.

"Friendly. Is that what they call it these days?" Hermione huffed while she used Harry's wand again, to cast another warming charm on the room. "You know, I can't borrow your wand forever, I need to talk to McGonagall about a trip to Ollivander," she sighed.

"You said it's lunch time, right? We can go there and ask, right now, then," Harry replied.

"Actually, you're right. I wish I'd thought about that, yesterday," Hermione retorted as she stood up. "We'd had plenty of time, then."

"And none of us was in any condition to even think about that," Harry said, rising as well, and following her to the door.

Stepping out from behind the tapestry, they turned towards the moving staircase.

Turning a corner, they met a couple of second years, who scattered like birds when they approached. Half of them turned and ran, others pressed themselves against walls to let them pass. Harry noticed with a sigh that a couple of girls among them were blushing like mad when they saw him.

"At least, they haven't started squealing whenever they see you, yet," Hermione huffed when the same girls started to huddle and giggle, the moment they were ten feet away.

"The horror!" Harry replied with a shudder. "You think they might?"

"The way The Prophet wrote about you? Even I might have written you fan mail! Remember, today's mail is only from those who got The Prophet early this morning and wrote right away! Tomorrow will be even worse."

"I cannot say if that or the fact they run away from us is more disturbing. I remember that most of these little buggers have badmouthed us, but it's not as if I'd hex them!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You certainly do hold grudges, Harry. It might be that, but this might simply be your eyes – you're not hiding them, anymore. Could it be that they might be scary to some people?"she teased.

Harry winced. "Don't remind me. I try not to think about that, too much. I certainly should look into contact lenses, like Sophie had said," he grumbled, increasing his speed slightly.

That event repeated a couple times during their walk, as they navigated their way through groups returning from classes, underlining Hermione's point, much to Harry's displeasure.

Apart of that behaviour, Harry felt like there was something wrong, but couldn't really pinpoint it. Only after passing a Hufflepuff boy, he suddenly realized the cause. Smiling, he winked at the boy in passing, whose eyes went extra wide when Harry did so.

About half a minute later, Harry repeated that action with a seventh year Slytherin girl that crossed their path on one of the stairs.

When he did it again to a Durmstrang boy, Hermione got miffed. "Harry, it is disturbing enough that people either jump out of our way or faint, swooning. Do you also have to tease them?"

"I'm not teasing them, only one," Harry replied cryptically.

A minute later, Harry was giving Fleur Delacour a wink that made the girl freeze in mid-step.

"Ok, what exactly was that?" Hermione asked, quite perturbed.

"Just keeping Miss Tonks on her feet," Harry replied, like he didn't have a care in the world.

"That was her? Amazing. Still, do you think it's wise to flaunt your super senses?" Hermione growled back.

"I would not even need them. When we meet the next people, just take a deep breath, and concentrate on smells."

True to Harry's prediction, they ran into another group, this time followed by Professor Sinistra. When they almost passed her, Hermione suddenly noticed the smell. Only then, it occurred to her that Sinistra was about four inches smaller than she usually was.

Snickering, they passed the so-called professor.

"Miss Granger, a moment please," the woman called out, and stepped closer when they stopped for her.

"Ok, since you now can do it, as well, I'd like a tip. What exactly gives me away," she asked, in a voice that completely gave her away.

"You smell a bit like bubblegum," Hermione replied in hushed tones.

"I realized it after you ran past us a couple of times, and remembered the smell from when we stumbled after the portkey," Harry explained.

"Drats," Tonks cursed, which sounded hilarious coming out of Professor Sinistra's mouth. "Thanks for the heads up, though. Oh, and the next time, tell us if you plan to play hide and seek in the morning. I was going nuts when you two were not in class and I couldn't find you. Had to bother the Headmaster, luckily he knew your hideout."

"Sorry, we use that room quite often. We both had trouble sleeping, and wanted to get another nap before class," Hermione replied.

"Yeah, these situations do that for you," Tonks/Sinistra replied. "You guys going for a bite?"

"Ok, let me change into something more comfortable and I'll join you," Tonks replied when they nodded. Taking a quick look around, she suddenly turned into her nondescript girl shape, and a wave of her wand later, she wore a Beauxbatons uniform.

"Shall oui go?" she said in a bad accent, smiling brilliantly.

_**ooOOoo**_

The great hall grew almost quiet when they entered. Ignoring that almost familiar occurrence, Harry led them towards a few empty spaces in the middle of the table.

They had barely started eating, chatting casually, when Neville came over.

"Look who's back again! Everything ok with you?" he asked, sitting down next to Tonks.

"Not yet, but I will be, thanks," Harry replied. "And congrats, you are the first one who dares speaking to us."

"Not surprising given the things the papers wrote. Given how they treated you two, some of them are bound to be quite nervous, now," Neville replied. "What happened to your eyes, mate? Looks scary!"

"Seems I got splashed by the potion they tried to resurrect You-Know-Who with. Healers are clueless what it was."

"On the bright side, it fixed his eyesight, so it's not all that bad," Hermione added an additional half-truth. "Oh, thank you, by the way, for taking care of Crookshanks, Neville," she quickly changed topics.

"No problem. Quite a cranky one, huh?"

"Yes, he can be difficult. But in a few days, Crookshanks will forgive me for leaving without permission," Hermione laughed.

"Hard to find good servants, these days," Neville laughed. "Speaking of, Neville Longbottom, at your service," he introduced himself to Tonks.

"Emilia Papillion," Tonks replied without breaking a sweat. "Enchantée."

Before they could say another word, Harry dropped his cutlery and sighed deeply.

Tonks was just about to ask why, when suddenly, a blond boy stepped up behind Harry.

"Needed to get some more attention, eh, Potter?" the boy in Slytherin robes drawled, a couple more Slytherins joining him. Tonks slowly drew her wand under the table, just in case, but chose to wait and see for the moment.

"Obviously, Malfoy. All I had to do was to owl a couple of escaped Death Eater convicts to abduct and almost kill me. You should try, yourself," Harry replied in a bored tone, not bothering to turn around.

"The press is only spouting the lies you feed them, Potter," Draco drawled. "You probably just strolled around with your Muggleborn slut."

Tonks could see the danger signs, almost immediately. Potter's shoulders had tensed, and his strange pupils had narrowed to fine lines. The fact that Granger had simply ignored the insult but looked frightened as she glanced at Potter, putting her hand on his, was a pretty sure sign that this would get ugly, soon.

"You must be pretty powerful, Monsieur Potter," Tonks remarked loudly, cutting Neville's angry shouts short with her unexpected comment.

Draco's face darkened when she interfered. "Potter, powerful? Ridiculous! There are only a few idiots repeating his stupid stories," he snarled.

"Did not your departement of law enforcement confirm his story, and zat hospital, az well," Tonks replied in a naïve way.

"They only wanted to suck up to the glorious Boy Who Lived," Malfoy sputtered, cornered.

Harry was getting curious, just like Hermione. Even the other Gryffindors, who had kept their distance so far were starting to listen in, because it was becoming obvious that this French girl was setting Malfoy up.

"So zhe whole hospital and your head of law enforcement are villing zo lie for him? You really are powerful, Monsieur Potter," Tonks stated in well-played awe.

"He is not!" Malfoy growled, his face taking on a purple tone that contrasted badly with his hair. "People only believe he is!"

"But is that not zhe definition of power? People believing you have it? After all, did zheese pureblood supremacists you 'ave had problems with, not do zhe same? Making people believe dey are powerful, even though they were not?"

Draco was livid, and his face showed. "They are powerful!" he all but screamed, shaking in anger.

Tonks looked confused. "Zhen why did they lose?"

"Because of... of.. of the Muggleborn corrupting our society," Malfoy tried to reason his way out of the hole he had found himself in.

"Oh, I zee, so your Minister iz a Muggleborn!"

"Actually no, the Minister never has been anything but a Pureblood, not even a Halfblood has held that job," Hermione interrupted.

"Pardon, I did not know zhis. So ze legislature is dominated by Muggleborn, zhen?"

"Not really, the Wizengamot is hereditary, and only Purebloods are in it, with only a few Halfbloods," Neville interrupted from next to Tonks.

Tonks put her face into a mask of confusion. "Zo what, are ze Aurors or ze Departments of zhe Ministry controlled by dem?"

"No, all of them are Purebloods, and have always been," Hermione replied, while Draco was still huffing and puffing.

"Oh! I know, dey are so many, they vill take over, soon!" Tonks said, feigning excitement over finally understanding the problem.

Neville had to laugh. "Not anytime soon. If we have one or two Muggleborn per year in Hogwarts, it's a lot. Maybe one or two Halfbloods on top of that. Out of forty per year! It's not as if Wizards mingle a lot with Muggles, especially since it is almost completely forbidden by law."

"I do not understand, Monsieur," Tonks helplessly asked Malfoy. "Why do dey need to fight ze Muggleborn, zhen? And why do zhey lose?"

Malfoy was livid. His face had turned purple, and a vein was throbbing on his temple. For a moment, Harry was sure he would draw his wand on Tonks, but then he just turned and stormed off. It took a moment for his bookends to realize, and they hectically rushed after him, leaving the other Slytherins, mostly the girls around Parkinson standing there awkwardly for a minute, before they quietly slipped away.

"That was brilliant," Neville cheered.

"And almost cruel, assaulting his poor little brain with logic," Hermione replied.

"I hope you still enjoy your stay at Hogwarts, you see, every castle needs a jester, and Malfoy fills that role, even though he is a bad joke, himself. Where are you from?" Neville, under the surprised eyes of Harry and Hermione, started flirting with Tonks.

In a kind of daze, Harry continued his meal, simply watching in awe, just like Hermione. Both realized that for one, Neville really changed since he managed to ask Ginny out, and second, was actually pretty good at charming women, and third was currently hitting on an Auror!

Harry was still pondering whether he should say something when McGonagall approached them.

"Two points to Gryffindor for an educational resolution of a conflict," she told them. "Are you two feeling better now? Professor Dumbledore told me you were still too exhausted to join classes."

"Yes, thank you, Professor. But I'm afraid I still can't join class, for my wand was destroyed. Is there a possibility to visit Ollivander's sometime soon?" Hermione replied.

"I'm afraid not anytime soon, I think we could schedule a visit for next weekend," McGonagall replied.

"Or I could take her there and back, my primary mission is to watch over them, anyway," Tonks replied in her normal voice, much to Neville's surprise. It was comical to watch him helplessly looking around, not quite computing how that French girl had suddenly developed a London accent.

"I guess this would be fine, if you are willing, Auror," McGonagall replied with a nod, turning around and leaving, while Neville froze in his seat.

"I'll join you. I'm not leaving Hermione alone," Harry said, defiantly.

"Fine with me," Tonks replied. "What? I'm not your mother, and my job is watching over you two. I just switched shifts with Dimmo, and she won't be back before dinner, so taking you both with me is actually the better course of action to follow my orders."

"Really? And McGonagall?" Hermione gasped.

"Given the display just right now, you are just as likely to be murdered in here as in Diagon Alley. And I'm not in school, so McGee has no power over me. What will she do, take points from me?" she laughed.

"Come on, guys, let's leave," Tonks commanded. Harry and Hermione complied, and even Neville was confused enough to follow without asking a question.

Until they were in the entrance hall, this is.

"You are an Auror?" he sputtered, the suave charmer gone.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie," Tonks chirped. "Didn't mean to lead you on, in fact, I was quite surprised by your advances," she explained, with Harry and Hermione starting to laugh behind her.

"You two knew! And didn't tell me!" Neville accused them.

"Sorry, Nev," Harry pressed out between chuckles. "But you moved too fast to stop you."

"Who knew you'd turn into such a charming girl-trap," Hermione giggled.

"Don't listen to them, if you were, well, at least two or three years older, I'd really appreciated your efforts, and if I were your age, it'd have been putty in your hands," Tonks tried to console Neville. "Come to think of it," she said, taking Neville's head in her hands, "such efforts demand reward," she said, concluding her sermon with a soft peck on his lips.

Neville stared at her for a moment, before his face turned scarlet and he bolted up the stairs.

"He still needs to work on that, I guess," Tonks commented dryly.

_**AN:**_

Thanks to Alix for betaing my sorry effort!  
(And to goku90504, who has a habit of pointing out mistakes to me, as well :D)

Hello, everybody! Took me a while to find my way back from my trip to Ho.. London! (I even got some good pictures of me crossing onto Platform 9 3/4) Then I got a nasty head cold that knocked me out for two weeks. A few more floodings, a couple more storms, lots of work, and occasional writing left me with this.

Oh, and I rewrote the incident after the dance a wee bit to make it match my ideas better – it was a bit unclear on their motivation. Same for the first talk to the Grangers in Rocking The Boat...


	19. Têtê-a-têtê

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

**By DerLaCroix**

**Chapter 18: Tête-a-tête**

"Oh, Miss Granger, is there a problem with your wand?" Ollivander greeted Hermione the moment she entered the shop. "Vine wood and dragon heartstring, if I recall correctly," he added after a short pause.

"Not anymore. It has been snapped," Hermione replied sadly.

"I'm sorry to hear that, I read about that incident in the paper. Sad, sad thing to happen," Ollivander replied, his head snapping towards the door to greet Tonks.

"Miss Tonks, sycamore and unicorn hair, nice to see you," he said, freezing as he noticed Harry holding the door open for her.

"And Mister Potter, holly and phoenix feather, and a perpetual mystery to me," he said, slowly, tilting his head side to side while he scrutinized Harry. "Come in, come in," he said as he stepped around the counter and rushing for the door. Taking a quick look left and right at the almost deserted Alley, he closed the door, locked it, and turned the sign to 'closed' before pulling a curtain.

"You must excuse my peculiar behaviour, but this is a very interesting situation," he said, walking around Harry, eyeing him closely.

"I'm not quite sure what you are talking about," Harry replied warily.

"Mister Potter, have you ever wondered why I can remember each and every person and their wand?" Ollivander said with a smile, his grey eyes digging into Harry's.

"Erm, good memory?"

"In part, but I can feel the wand in your sleeve, Miss Tonks' wand in her wrist holster, and even the faint traces on Miss Granger. They are calling out to me, their wood, their cores. Each wandmaker possesses this skill, it is either a gift, or develops over time, but you'll never be a true artist if you lack it. And right now, that particular sense is singing at your mere presence, Mister Potter. And these eyes..."

"What are you talking about," Hermione tried to interrupt, but failed.

"I believe you know exactly, Miss Granger," Ollivander replied. "Or how would you explain the fact that I can sense you not only using Mister Potter's wand, another one, and finally, and most curiously, Mister Potter, himself, to cast spells, lately?"

"I, we, I mean," Hermione stammered. Harry interrupted, harshly.

"I think we should be leaving, now," he growled.

Ollivander was looking confused for a moment. "What? Why? I implore you to stay, Mister Potter, for Miss Granger's sake."

"What do you mean," Harry roared, instantly face to face with Ollivander. Tonks just as quickly reacted, and stepped between them.

"Step back, Mister Potter! And you, explain yourself, Mister Ollivander," she commanded. Harry hesitated for a moment before he complied.

"I apologize, Mister Potter. I had no intention to threaten any of you, quite the opposite," Ollivander spoke, his whole posture screaming confusion.

"So what did you imply, for my sake?" Hermione snapped.

"Miss Granger, before I started the practice of standardizing wands, people had their wands custom made, sometimes using core materials they provided themselves, materials they felt a connection to. It was the wandsmith's job to find the proper wood, or even a different core if it proved unsuitable," Ollivander explained, before coming to the point.

"I believe, Mister Potter, that there would hardly be any material more suitable to Miss Granger, than you. She has an affinity to dragon heartstring cores, you see?"

"So you want me to rip my heart out?" Harry growled.

"Don't be silly, Mister Potter, there is no way this could produce anything of suitable length," Ollivander chided, reaching out for Harry's head, picking at his mop. "I wonder," he said, completely oblivious to the fact that his actions made Harry uneasy.

"Oh how I wished all dragons had hair, it would make their essence so much more readily available," he lamented. "It could work, but still too short. Could I, per chance, persuade you to take a hair growth potion?" he finally asked.

"Wait, you want to make me a wand out of Harry's hair?"

"Of course! That would be magnificent, wouldn't it?" Ollivander cheered.

"And you think that would work for me?" Hermione replied, warily, her face scrunched up. "I mean, what are the chances..."

Ollivander didn't want to have any of that. "I guarantee. In fact, if the wand doesn't work perfectly, I will give you it, and the wand that chooses you, for free."

"And how much if it works?" Harry stepped in.

Ollivander seemed almost confused by the question, as if he hadn't even considered that part of the deal, yet. "Oh well, that might be important, I guess. I mean, you brought along the core, yourself, and it has been so long since I last made a custom wand... Five Galleons?"

"Deal!" Hermione cried out, smiling as she already made plans on how to talk the others into a short stop at the book store.

Ollivander rubbed his hands, happily. "Well, then, Mister Potter, you might want to dash to Madame Barberry's for a hair potion while Miss Granger and I search for a suitable wood."

"I would, if I knew where it is," Harry replied, not having any clue.

"You must have noticed it, it's right next to the Quidditch shop!" Hermione protested. Tonks laughed out loud when Harry assumed a very sheepish position, avoiding to look at Hermione, who shook her head in amazement.

"I'll make sure he gets there without distractions and gets the right stuff," she offered, still chuckling.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, still staring daggers at Harry. "And while you are there, get me a bottle of Sleakeazy's, will you?"

"Will do," Tonks said, saluting in jest. "Say, is that stuff as good as they say? I mean, I never had any need for it, but I heard it does wonders," she asked.

Hermione smiled ear to ear when she replied. "It's amazing - I had a mop of frizz before! A drop in the morning, and it's curls – a handful, and you got waves. I even managed straight hair, once, but that took almost half a bottle," she laughed.

Tonks nodded, pleased by the answer. "Sounds like a good present for mum. Come on, Harry, hope you got money on you, let's get ourselves some beauty products."

"We might as well throw in a mask and a manicure, while we're there, you think?" she teased Harry, while ushering the almost horrified teen out of the shop.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Enough joking. Now that we're alone, what happened to you?" Tonks asked Harry, almost the moment they had walked out.

When Harry started to stammer, she cut him off, sharply. "Stop the codswallop. Don't even try, you two aren't half as good liars as you believe. What is wrong with you, Harry? I watched your reactions, you two already knew!"

Harry gave her a worried look in reply.

Tonks started to chuckle. "Come on, I promise I won't tell. But you're family, and helped free cousin Sirius. I owe you for that. And I know already that you seem to be part Dragon from what Ollivander implied - if I knew the full story, I might be able to help you hiding it," she offered.

When Harry stared at her, she shook with laughter. "Oh come on, chap, did you think, I, of all people, would have problems with someone being different? I'm practically a different person every hour!"

"Anyway, I'm offering my help, your choice to take it or leave it, ok?" she repeated her offer, just when the shop came into view. Harry was seriously amazed that he had missed it all these years. It was, well, the word 'frilly' would describe it the best, if someone could use that attribute to describe a building. The windows were full of soap, tubes, and vials, with brushes, combs and various tools that looked outright dangerous cluttered in between.

"Come on, don't be shy," Tonks teased when Harry hesitated to approach the door, pushing him forward. "We might even have time to get our eyebrows plucked, if we hurry!"

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry was still in a perfume-induced stupor when they returned to Ollivander's.

Upon knocking, it was Hermione who opened the door.

"Come in, he's busy carving the wand," she said as she let them in, locking the door behind them.

"Ah, back again. Very well, then, have a good sip, and call me once it reaches your shoulder blades," Ollivander said, only briefly sticking his head out of the door. Harry almost couldn't believe his ears, but the wand maker had vanished back into his shop before he could protest.

"Are you as curious as I am?" Tonks asked Hermione mirthfully. "Such a hunk of man-meat, and a long mane, I bet he looks handsomely rakish."

Harry scowled undignified. "With my mop? I'll just look like a proper mop! Let's get it over with – cheers!" he called out, downing half the flask in one gulp.

At first, there was no effect, at all, but after a minute or so, his head started to itch. Then he could feel his hair creep down his neck and over his face. With a swift toss of his hand, he threw it back, irritated. Rolling his eyes, he waited until the strange sensation stopped, slightly uncomfortable with the new weight of his mane.

Once again, he tossed it back when it tickled his ears, realizing its length.

"Finally! I think it's done. I look ridiculous, don't I?" he huffed.

"Far from that, sweety," Tonks whispered, clearing her throat. "Not bad, Potter. There actually was hair hidden under this mess," she said, before whistling at him.

When Harry was looking at Hermione for help, he found her staring at him. For a moment, he thought she looked like she was swallowing something down, licking her lips after she'd done that.

"What is this barney about?" Ollivander was heard through the door, which opened soon after. "Are you... Oh, myyyyyy..." he spoke, walking around behind Harry, letting his hand glide through his long, slightly wavy black locks, before picking strands up, here and there. Harry was stiff like a deer in headlights when he did that.

"This look certainly suits you, Mister Potter, maybe even more if you were to tie them," Ollivander said, playing with another strand. "This one is fine. I'm sorry," he added, before pulling deftly.

"Yeoch!" Harry gasped, instinctively cringing and holding his head. "That bloody hurt! Who knew a single hair could hurt so bad," he chuckled. Just as long until he saw Ollivander had pulled out a whole strand of hair. "Figures," he grumbled, rubbing his head.

"I'm terribly sorry, but human hair simply is not as thick as unicorn. I need a strand to compensate," Ollivander apologized. "Now excuse me, I should hurry. If everything works according to my plan - and it usually does - I should need no more than an hour, maybe two!"

And with that, he was gone, again. Harry rubbed his head again, before flicking his hair back.

"Ok, time to cut that stuff off," he said, reaching for his wand, only to find Hermione holding him back.

"Not so fast, wait a minute," she blurted, looking quite flushed. "You shouldn't rush this," she told him.

"You mean in case he messes it up? I doubt he would," Harry replied, trying to reach for his wand, once more, and being foiled, again.

"It could happen! Won't hurt to wait it out, will it?" she said, licking her suddenly all too dry lips, again. "We might tie them off for now, just as he suggested, so they don't disturb you too much, for now," she offered, almost innocently, but Harry's nose twitched, already.

"And that is all the reason you have?" He inquired, tapping his nose.

Hermione blushed profoundly when he did so. "Spoilsport. Ok, you got me. I never thought that I'd say that, especially to a man, but it really looks good on you. I'd kill for soft waves like that! It's so unfair!"

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised, turning this and that way to locate a mirror. Hermione groaned when he did so. "And it even ripples," she complained.

"Here, try this," Tonks interrupted, handing them a velvet strap she just had conjured. Harry just stared at her with a blank expression, until Hermione huffed and took it, muttering. "Turn around," she commanded, and proceeded to slip it under his mane, then pulling it up before tying it off. "See, that's how it's done. Practice it, for you will be needing it from now on."

"Why?"

"Because it would be a shame to let you cut them off, again, you handsome dolt!" Tonks huffed. "I'm so going to copy them next time," she promised.

"Um, could you do it, now?" Harry asked, awkwardly. "There is no mirror, in here, and you two got me really curious."

_**ooOOoo**_

It was already dark when they finally walked back into Hogwarts.

"Over there," Harry pointed out Neville, who had reserved a few spots at the table.

"Hey guys, good you finally made it - I was getting worried, already," he greeted them as they took their seats.

"Yeah, took a while," Harry evaded. "You know, girls and shopping," he joked, flinching only lightly when Hermione slapped his shoulder.

"Prat!"

"Oy, he's barely walking, and you abuse him, already," Neville grinned. "Our... Friend... Has not returned?" he added carefully.

"What? Who? Oh, her! No, her shift is over, but she'll be back, tomorrow, you little charmer," Hermione teased him when she got what he meant.

"Stuff it, you...Wait! What happened to your hair, Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. The girls persuaded me to try a potion they got for me as a prank. Turned out it looked better than the original, so I kept it," Harry replied, turning his head to let Neville have a better look at his ponytail.

"First your eyes, now the hair... What's next? Fancy clothes?" Neville laughed. "Weird to see you without your bird's nest, but not bad – actually, you do look like a bad boy, now. And more than one seem to agree," he said with a nod towards behind Harry.

When Harry turned to see, all he could see was some female heads in a brief blur as they rushed to look away. The blushes gave them away, still.

"Are you guys done discussing hairdos? I thought this was about my new wand," Hermione grumbled in mock annoyance, trying to change the topic.

"Sorry! So, let me see it!" Neville replied with a grin.

Eagerly, Hermione produced her new wand, holding it out at both ends, turning it slowly.

"Nice, what is it?"

"Cypress and dragon," Hermione replied, giving less than all detail.

"Nice. Strange, though. I'd figured you more for a brainy type of wand, not a fighter's one."

"Well, Ollivander said that this wood suits people willing to face death for others, so I can see the why," Harry said with a smile that made Hermione blush as she put the wand away.

Neville grunted in acknowledgement. "Yeah, seems right to me. And it even smells good! I'd love to get a new one. Gran is making me use dad's old one."

"Really? As far as I know, wands don't work well if they don't fit perfectly – that's why Ollivander had to look so long for one, he said," Hermione replied, pausing before she took some smoked salmon.

"Yeah," Harry replied, while picking the darkest lamb chops from the pile. "I went through a lot before he found mine. Some were outright dangerously mismatched, what I know now. Back then, I was just surprised when the shelf exploded with a single wave."

"Hmmm. Got to talk to Gran," Neville replied, stabbing his food thoughtfully.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Bonjour," a voice greeted Harry when he stumbled down the stairs, early, again. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Tonks in her form from yesterday, cuddling with a blushing Neville, with an highly amused Hermione sitting next to them.

"Don't want to know. I'm hungry," he said, shaking his head in desperation while making a beeline for the door. Hermione and Tonks, both, giggled and followed, Tonks almost dragging Neville after her.

"No sleep, again?" Hermione asked once she had latched onto Harry's arm. Harry didn't break step as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Not much, but I'm good. Maybe a nap during lunch, and I'll manage," he sighed, rolling his shoulders. "And yourself?" he asked, ignoring the sound of a peck and the giggle behind them, except for a sigh.

"I got a few hours. You really don't want to know?" Hermione replied with a nod towards the two following them.

"Not really, but I guess I'll have to listen, anyway, right?" he replied with another sigh. "Has she changed her mind about robbing the cradle?"

Tonks poked his shoulder from behind. "I heard that, Potter. And no, I just figured it'd be easier to follow you two around if I pose as Neville's girlfriend," she said, cuddling into Neville's shoulder, demonstratively

"So you're not just enjoying tormenting the poor lad," Harry replied, thumbing at the still blushing Neville.

Tonks waved his comment off. "That poor lad agreed, and will profit, greatly. I made it my project to cure his shyness, adorable as it might be. When I'm done with him, he can interact with girls properly, even if that takes running around naked in front of him," she replied, giggling when Neville's head almost popped from blushing.

"See – a few more comments like that, and I'll get his blush bulb to pop. His innate talent to charm girls, and my training – he'll be unstoppable!" she bragged.

"Especially with the reputation he'll get," Hermione agreed, leaving Harry behind in the dark.

"Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she gave Harry a tackle. "Time to wake up! Honestly, isn't it obvious? Neville's a fourth year, and has a blonde, gorgeous, French,seventeen-year-old beauty seemingly wrapped around his finger. The girls will fight each other to devour him!"

"Why? He already has a girlfriend," Harry responded, confused.

"Darling, you really know nothing about how girls tick," Tonks laughed, as they turned into the still almost empty Great Hall.

_**ooOOoo**_

True to the girls' prediction, Harry was astounded that Tonks flirting with Neville had gained Neville almost as much attention as Harry currently commanded. Neville was slowly getting used to Tonks' antics, and starting to come back out of his shell, occasionally teasing her back, not noticing how this gained him even more attention. To his surprise, Harry discovered that there were already some girls having the blushes for Neville.

Still wondering if he'd ever understand females, he suddenly was showered with letters when the owls arrived.

"Oh come on," he moaned when one owl dropped its letter into his porridge.

Fishing it out, he moaned again. "And it's a perfumed one. Great! Now my porridge is truly ruined."

"As if you could make that gruel any worse," Neville joked from across the table. "What is it with the perfumed letters?"

"Witches who want to marry me or just simply want to teach me some things," Harry replied with a sigh.

"Teach?" Neville asked, confused.

"Carnal things?" Tonks inquired, smirking when Harry nodded with a prize-worthy frown as he wiped the letter off with his napkin.

"Usually including a nude photo if it's the latter offer," Hermione added sardonically from his side, while she opened her Daily Prophet.

A lot of cutlery cluttered to the table as she said this. Neville almost choked on his eggs. "Really?" he coughed, while Tonks giggled hysterically.

Harry simply nodded, his ears getting a healthy tinge.

"Mate, you need some help with answering your mail?" Seamus called from a few seats over. Dean was laughing along, while Ron was looking torn between longing and envy.

"No need to fake compassion, Seamus. You're not fooling anyone," Harry barked back.

"Might as well distribute these pictures," Hermione suddenly said loudly from behind her paper, surprising everybody. "What? Serves them right – they know he got a girlfriend – me! These offers are despicable attempts at mate poaching," she huffed, taking a bite off her scone.

"You are quite ze vicious," Tonks remarked, having slipped back into her Papillion persona.

"If it takes parading their bare arses in public to teach them a lesson, I'm all for it," Hermione replied, while sorting Harry's mail roughly.

"Hey, this one is from Sirius," she exclaimed, handing Harry a parcel. Harry immediately tore it open, finding a letter and something well-wrapped in it. Opening it distracted him long enough to miss something else.

"So the great Potter is getting fan mail, again?" Malfoy drawled from behind Harry, once again trying to spoil Harry's meal. At first, Harry wanted nothing but shout at the irritating jerk, or maybe put a fist through his smirk, but Tonks interfered, again.

"Oh, bonjour," she tweeted, hanging on to Neville's arm.

"You again," Draco replied, not as friendly as she had been, quite the opposite. "Really? With Longbottom? A girl like you could do much better," he drawled when he realized the implication.

"Cherie, you know nozzink about love. Neville haz all a girl could vant. Truly, he makes me feel like anozzer woman," she praised loud enough to make people stare. Neville blushing brightly while she said that gave birth to a good couple of rumours.

Draco stared for a moment, before shaking his head and choosing to ignore that topic, completely. "So, Potter's getting naughty offers," he tried, once more, but this time, Harry wasn't surprised and ready to strike back.

"Yes, and don't beg, Draco. I burned that picture, and once again, I will not take you on on that offer," Harry replied loud enough for half the Great Hall to hear, once more not even bothering to turn around. Even Tonks gaped at him, completely surprised.

"What? No! What? That's not..." Draco stammered in surprise, under the laughter of everyone in hearing range.

"No? So you're here on Parkinson's behalf?" Harry replied, happy to finally have something he could torment Malfoy with. Of course, everybody in the room started laughing, again, until Parkinson suddenly gasped and paled! Before anybody could even start to wonder, she dashed forward and grabbed an envelope with a distinctive coat of arms on it from the pile on the table. Before Harry could react, she had already run off with it, all eyes in the hall following her exit.

Draco stood there for a few moments, imitating a fish out of the water just as well as Harry currently did, before he simply turned and walked away.

"I guess that broke him," Tonks stated, almost pitiful.

Neville agreed, forcefully. "True. She even broke me with that stunt. Parkinson? Of all people? What did she think?"

"I doubt it was her. I got mail from quite a few people trying to arrange a marriage with their daughters, nieces and granddaughters. At least three of these girls are in Hogwarts, right now," Harry replied.

"Really? Who?"

"Not telling," Harry smirked.

"Spoilsport. So, what is the plan for today? Any interesting classes I can sleep through?" Tonks asked with a grin.

"Interesting? Like potions, maybe?" Harry teased, having already gone back to reading his letter while he poured some pumpkin juice.

"Oh bugger! You guys know Snape will roast us on a spit for what we've just done to Malfoy," Neville remarked, sadly.

"Totally worth it," Harry replied. "Especially since he will take it all out on you, not me," he said with a huge grin.

Tonks was confused. "Really? As far as I heard during my NEWT year, he was bullying you quite badly. What happened to change this?"

"Let's say we had a contest of minds, and he was found to be inadequate," Harry smirked while reaching for the bacon platter that looked deliciously crisp, today.

"Whohoo! Snape got burned by Potter?" Tonks cheered, at least as much as a hushed whisper allowed.

"You don't know half of it, girl," Harry replied with an evil smile, before starting his breakfast in earnest, an action the others copied, as well. Hermione almost tore her paper apart with a very undignified snort of laughter when she heard him say that.

"True, Snape spent weeks in the infirmary," Neville agreed. Perking up while pouring a cup, Tonks spilled her tea over the table, cursing under her breath while she quickly cleaned the mess up with her wand. Making a mental note for another conversation at a later point in time, she settled for giving Harry strange looks.

_**ooOOoo**_

"You know, I'm still baffled," Tonks remarked after a bit. Hesitating a moment, she looked left and right, and then cast a spell under the table.

"So, that'll make it easier to talk - I masked our conversation. We're officially discussing French fashion, right now. Anyway, what I wanted to say, it makes no sense – the Parkinsons are quite well off, and almost proverbially keen to increase their standing. It is well known that they were trying to get their daughter engaged to the Malfoy boy ever since their birth. You might be wealthy, but the Potters never were even close to being as well off as the Malfoys – why would they suddenly go after you?" she pondered, while Harry started to chuckle.

"How well were the Blacks off?" Harry inquired casually.

"Legendary," Neville replied. "You would need to combine a couple of other fortunes to match them. Half the Malfoys' worth is the dowry they got from Narcissa."

Harry's face had a puzzled expression. "And they live in such a hovel?"

"Hovel? What hovel?" Tonks inquired, only barely keeping her voice low enough to not break her disguise.

"Their house, it's a ruin," Harry replied, which neither Neville nor Tonks could quite believe.

"Harry, Black Manor is a jewel, one of the most expensive properties in London. You must be joking, right?" Neville insisted.

"Neville, that was before it was uninhabited and neglected for, what, a decade?" Hermione intervened on Harry's behalf. "It was all but rotting when we first visited it, full of vermin."

"Really? Mum always used to wax about its beauty," Tonks replied sadly. "But what is it you're getting at? You're not bringing the Blacks up without cause, aren't you?"

"Oh, nothing, Sirius just told me that he has plans to adopt me as his heir," Harry replied nonchalantly.

"Really? Now there's your cause for the Parkinsons' change of mind. If he really adopts you, you would be loaded, even if he starts rivalling the Weasleys for offspring."

"Sorry to interrupt, but why did Sirius inherit the Black fortune? Wasn't he disowned by his parents? I distinctly remember him talking about that, once," Hermione asked. "You know, hiding in his parent's home is one thing, but officially inheriting?"

"That is actually quite funny – as far as my mother told me, when Sirius was thrown out, his father, Orion, never actually disowned him. He was quite sure that the boy would come crawling back quite soon. He never expected that Sirius would be able to move in with the Potters. Walpurga was pestering about filing the documents for years, and Orion always pushed that down the line, hoping for the boy to wise up. When Sirius' younger brother disappeared, making Sirius the last remaining male Black heir, Orion had no other option than leaving Sirius in line, or the Blacks would go extinct."

"Sirius had a brother?"

"Yes, Regulus. He was a Death Eater, but he disappeared in 79'. After he went missing, Orion went crazy with securing the manor after that happened. Turned it into a death-trap of a fortress, I was told." Tonks explained. "When he finally died, sometimes in the eighties, Walpurga immediately wanted to complete the paperwork, but by then, due to the Black by-laws, Sirius had already taken the mantle of Head of House Black, even though he wasn't interested in acting on it."

"So by the time she tried to disown him, he already had inherited everything, even though she still was alive? These rules are a bit confusing," Harry voiced his thoughts.

Neville was less shocked. "You know, that is quite common. For example, nominally, everything the Longbottoms do own is legally mine, with Gram just acting as trustee until I'm of age. Still, the by-laws also state that I could not throw her out or restrict her to less than a certain annual revenue for as long as she lives. Same would apply to Sirius' mother. She probably was allowed to live in that house for as long as she lives, and command a substantial appanage, for all I know."

"Still confusing," Hermione joined in. "For Muggles, it is customary that the wife inherits everything, and children only inherit after her death."

"Really?" Neville replied, astounded by the revelation. "But that would mean that the family fortune would be controlled by someone not born into the family, and if she marries again, her new husband would receive all these funds, leaving the original heirs with nothing!"

"I'm not quite sure if I can agree to the role models this statement implies, but you do have a point, I guess," Hermione agreed.

"What role models?" Neville inquired.

"Anything interesting in the papers?" Harry interrupted before the discussion could take a wrong direction.

"Some follow up on the arrests. Fudge is still quiet as a stone, Crouch Senior is almost in a coma from what he'd gone through, and they have no lead to where Crouch junior is."

"Yeah, we know that he was there, but he left to parts unknown. People are currently turning the house upside down, trying to find hints to his whereabouts," Tonks remarked.

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully. "Have you tried searching his office? I mean, he spent most of his time here in Hogwarts."

"Of course we have," Tonks replied. "Lots of stuff that belongs to Moody, we're still trying to break the enchantments on some stuff to examine things properly."

_**ooOOoo**_

"Hermione, I'm going to get a shower. Cleaning charms are good enough, but I have felt sticky all day," Harry said as they entered the common room, late in the afternoon.

"Cleaning charms?" Neville asked, rising an eyebrow in amazed disgust.

"My back is raw and sore from that curse, and I couldn't stand water on it. Hope it's better now," Harry explained with a frown.

"I hope so," Hermione replied. "I'll try and gather the notes from class, alright? See you later?"

"Of course," Harry replied, giving her a peck on the cheek. "I'm back in ten, well, maybe make that twenty," he said as his ponytail fell past his cheek.

Giggling briefly, Hermione set off, while Harry and Neville climbed up the stairs.

"Another present?" Neville remarked upon entering their dorm, pointing towards Harry's bed. A package with a 'For Harry' card laid on it. Harry sighed and went over, tugging on it. "Ugh! Cauldron cakes," he said with a grimace. "I hate those things. You want?" he asked Neville, discarding the card and wrapping on the floor, and holding the package out for him.

"Why not, thanks," Neville replied, taking one.

"Take 'em all," Harry urged.

Neville thought a moment. "Alright, I'll take em back down for homework nibbling. Mind if I share them? There's too many for me, and it would be a shame if they go bad."

Harry huffed. "Be my guest. I can't stand them," he said, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry was wincing under the pinpricks of the shower, but he simply had to do this.

Carefully, he turned slightly so that the hot water was not hitting his wounds directly, leaning his head against the cold tiles of the wall, resting for a moment. He wasn't exactly looking forward to having soap on that wound, but with his new hairstyle, it would hardly be evitable. Sighing, he reached for his shampoo and started washing his mane.

Stepping out of the shower, he gingerly dried his now sore back with soft touches before towelling properly. Wrapping the towel securely to his waist, he stepped out of the bathroom and into the dorm, immediately noticing that something was wrong. Someone had been in here, and unless one of the guys had changed a lot during break, it wasn't one of them. Flowery wasn't a scent you'd connect to any of them.

A quick look around confirmed his guess that everyone else was still down in the common room, or milling around in the castle. Hermione undoubtedly was currently hunting down and copying all notes for today's classes.

Still, he had the feeling that someone was here, he simply couldn't see, hear or smell them.

That was when he noticed a faint shimmer in the air around his bed that hadn't been there before. Careful to not look like he was aware, he stepped closer, towards his trunk. Acting as if he were picking up his clothes, he whispered as he casted wandless finite charms. The first one struck down some kind of ward he didn't realize, and the second made him aware that there was someone breathing on his bed. Obviously some kind of silencing charm. The last hue was familiar to Harry. A glamour. On his seemingly empty bed.

Bracing himself for the worst, he another finite charm, which revealed that the curtains were drawn. Taking a deep breath, he opened them, almost freezing at the revealed sight.

"Hello Harry," the girl with the black locks said when Harry pulled the curtains open. "Surprise!" she giggled. "Come in here, I've charmed the bed so no one will see, hear, or disturb us," she purred, flipping the blanket off. For all it was worth, she could just as well have been naked, for her extremely short nightie was almost completely transparent, including her knickers. "Why don't you drop that towel, Harry? I'll make you forget the bookworm," she purred.

When Harry didn't get in the bed, but just stared at her, not believing his eyes, she upped the ante. Sitting up, she reached out to pull at his towel. "Let me see what you got for me," she said, shivering in anticipation, almost pouting when Harry stepped back.

"Get out," he growled, much to her surprise.

"Huh? You're shy? Strange, I'd have guessed the bookworm would have shagged that out of you, already. Come on, Harry, I know you are dying to have a go at me," she said, slipping off the bed and onto her knees, once again reaching out for his towel with a seductive smile.

Only to cry out in pain when Harry got a go at her the way he currently was dying to do. Slapping her reaching hands away, he grabbed her the offered wrist, and pulled her to her feet. Barely able to keep his sight from going fully red, Harry simply started walking, pulling Romilda after him, and down the stairs.

"OW! Harry, NO! Let me go! You're hurting me!" she screeched when they passed the third floor, but Harry was far too angry to listen to her. By the time they passed the second floor, she was reduced to begging him to let her go, and by the time he pulled her past the first floor, she was a crying wreck, stumbling along while trying to cover herself as good as possible, while some second years were following them, laughing and cat-calling.

Harry didn't mind. His anger-clouded mind was too busy pulling her along that he had not only forgotten that he himself was only in a towel, but he also didn't realize their entourage, nor the noises from the common room.

_**ooOOoo**_

"You there, put another set of ropes on him – he's breaking free," Dimaggio commanded in the common room, gesticulating wildly.

"How about Longbottom, is he alright?" she asked, when suddenly one of the Weasley twins called out for her. "Auror, we got another one – he got Vane!"

"Harry, mate, Wait a moment!" Fred said as he stepped into Harry's path, stopping him. "I know you love her, but you are hurting her! Let her go!"

Confused, Harry looked at him. "Love her? That stupid slut? NO!" he protested, while Romilda howled in anguish, trying to cover herself, futile as it turned out to be. By this time, Dimaggio had arrived and quickly conjured a blanket around the girl.

"What? No? What the hell are you doing with her, then?" Fred stammered, while Dimaggio had less time for words.

"Let her go, Mister Potter, NOW!" she roared, her wand now trained at Harry.

Hesitating for a moment, Harry finally let go of Romilda's hand. "Fine, you take care of that stupid slut."

Dimaggio took a closer look at Harry, and then Romilda, who had dropped to the floor, hugging the blanket to herself as she bawled her eyes out. "What has happened here?"

"She was hiding in my bed, trying to seduce me," Harry growled. "Where is Hermione? And why are they tied up?" He asked, pointing at five boys lying in a row near the entrance, Neville amongst them.

"I'm here," Hermione called out while pushing through the crowd. "Uhm, Harry? Why are you in a towel?"

"Oops. I just came out if the shower, and didn't change," Harry said sheepishly, suddenly feeling quite cold. With a roll of her eyes, Dimaggio conjured another blanket for him.

"These boys were fighting amongst each other over Miss Vane," Dimaggio replied, thoughtfully. "I do believe you have to tell us something, right, Miss Vane?" she asked, while the portrait swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, and some prefects.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall immediately demanded to know.

"Ah, Professor, good you are here. The situation is under control, and I was just trying to get to the bottom of this. For some reason, these boys over there had started fighting over miss Vane. I was in the common room at the time it started, but by the time I could intervene, wands had already been in use, and two boys had commenced brawling. When we finally subdued them, Mister Potter dragged Miss Vane down into the common room, enraged that she had tried to seduce him by hiding in his bed in scant clothing when he came out of the shower," she reported, almost casually reaching out to catch Hermione, who was rushing at Romilda when she heard what happened.

"Mister Potter, would you please restrain your girlfriend, I will take care of this," she said, demonstrating remarkable strength in holding a raging and cursing Hermione back, who tried to grab and kick Romilda.

"Very good, thank you," she continued after Harry had taken care of her burden. "Just like Miss Granger, I also believe that these incidents are connected. Especially since all five boys do show signs of love potion influence, especially Mister Longbottom."

"The cauldron cakes!" Harry gasped.

"Mister Potter?" McGonagall demanded, trying to get control over the proceedings.

"I... I found a box of cauldron cakes... on my bed, before I went into the shower. I gave them to Neville," he replied, utterly dumbfounded at how close he had been to a catastrophe. All it would have taken was a different kind of sweets...

Meanwhile, Dimaggio had knelt down next to Vane. "The potion was in the cakes, right?" she asked, softly. She rose with a sigh when Vane blushed, but nodded.

"We could try to complete the picture, Professor, but the case is clear. She's too young to be tried, but she still faces expulsion," Dimaggio informed McGonagall, who took on a very contrite expression. Vane stared at them for a second, not believing what she'd heard, before collapsing in a crying fit. Almost instantly, the third year girls, and some others, were at her side, consoling her.

As it was almost customary, Dumbledore entered just this moment, followed by some more prefects, and Madame Pomfrey, who immediately rushed to look after the captured boys.

"I don't believe that we should expel someone over such a small thing," he remarked.

"Small thing? That bitch tried to rape Harry!" Hermione gasped, before trying to break free from Harry's grasp to attack Vane. Of course, Harry had no problem holding her back, but his gaze was drilling holes into Dumbledore.

"Don't be silly, Granger, a girl can't rape a boy, only boys can rape someone," Lavender spoke loudly.

"This is incorrect, Miss," Dimaggio answered the call. "Administering a love potion and taking advantage of a drugged person is rape, no matter the gender. And with all due respect, Headmaster, this is not a school decision. If Mister Potter chooses to report this, it it will be the legal result, no matter what your opinion might be."

Dumbledore did not avert his gaze from Harry as he replied. "Of course, Auror, but I trust in Mister Potter to not blow such a small story out of proportion. There is no need to launder people's dirty secrets in public," he said, smiling softly.

Harry's eyes narrowed in reply. Hermione has also stopped struggling and stared at the Headmaster in disgust.

Meanwhile, even Vane had realized that her fate was now completely in Harry's hands. Pushing through the wall of her friends, she crawled over, prostrating herself at his feet. "Please, Harry, I'm sorry. I'll do everything, please, just.. Please..." she begged, sobbing. "Granger, please. I know, I was stupid, but please. I'll swear an oath, an unbreakable vow, anything, but please, have mercy," she addressed Hermione when Harry continued to stare at Dumbledore, ignoring her.

"Oh, come on – Harry, mate, have a heart," Fred joined in.

"Yeah," George agreed. "We... _Some_ people," he caught himself, "have done worse. Just look at it as a prank with really bad taste. You really want to ruin her life over this?"

"I guess we could let things slide for a public statement and apology during lunch, given she'll get an appropriate punishment," Hermione suggested carefully. Harry frowned, but nodded, his eyes still riveted to Dumbledore's.

"Be sure this will happen, Miss Granger, I will take care of this. And thank you, Mister Potter," McGonagall replied, her face as hard as marble as she glared at the girl sobbing in relief at the couple's feet. "Come, Miss Vane, let's get you dressed properly while I search your belongings for further contraband," she barked.

Dumbledore held Harry's gaze a couple more seconds before nodding and excusing himself.

_**ooOOoo**_

The next morning, Hermione again found Harry in the common room, this time wedged in between the backrest and seat of the couch, trying to keep his back over the resulting gap.

"Still that bad?"

"Yeah, and my bed reeked of Vane, couldn't stand it," Harry huffed back, groggily. "Need to ask the elves to change the linens. You're up, early, as well. Still nightmares?" he asked in reply, noticing the rings under her eyes.

"Plenty. And some new ones, thanks to her. Fancy another nap? We still got two hours till breakfast," Hermione proposed.

"Why not, I for sure ain't getting any sleep here, neither. We'll set an alarm, this time," Harry agreed, rolling onto his stomach before getting up.

_**ooOOoo**_

"You decent?" A familiar voice called out soon after Harry had advised Hermione that someone was at the door.

"No, we're dancing around a bonfire, starkers," Harry replied sarcastically.

"Drats, here I was hoping for some eye-candy, you dirty liar," Tonks, in her now customary form, said with a frown as she stepped in, followed by Neville. "Nice room, would you mind if I borrow it for when I finally make a man out of Neville?"

"For someone so presumably innocent, you caught up on my joke pretty quick," she commented when Neville started sputtering in response. "Keep dreaming, won't happen. Anyway, I wanted to get you two for breakfast, so you don't miss it, again."

"We were just leaving for it when you came in," Hermione replied. "We just needed some time for us."

"I know, I've heard what happened," Tonks replied, poking Neville in the side with her elbow, causing him to huff and protest.

"I was under a potion!"

"It's more the amount of potion you were under. Five cakes? You really should cut on sweets if you want to take advantage of the effort I put into you! No wonder you broke the younger Weasley's nose over her, he was just one cake behind you."

"You broke Ron Weasley's nose?" Hermione asked, starting to laugh brilliantly when Neville nodded, only slightly embarrassed.

"This is too good to be true," Hermione giggled as she hung from Harry's neck. "Tonks, if you ever change your mind and do want to have your way with Neville, the room is yours," she laughed.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ok, so much for having at least one day without interesting things happening. Things are going to get interesting any moment now," Neville remarked, sipping on his goblet. "Victor Krum is making his way towards us, it seems," he elaborated as he pushed his empty plate away.

"Maybe he wants advice on how to pick up girls from you?" Hermione teased, still sorting today's mail with Harry.

Neville reacted by rolling his eyes. "Seems there was some clownfish among your salmon," he huffed at her, ignoring Tonks giggling softly at him.

"Goot moornin," Krum said as he approached the table, nodding towards them in order, starting with Hermione.

"A good morning to you, too, Victor. How was your day?" Harry replied, among the greetings of the other two.

"Och, much studying for de turd task. But I tink it wos better than your week," Viktor waved off, taking a seat next to Hermione and reaching for a goblet.

"Huh?"

"Vell, being abducted and almost killed, and ackording to yor papers, still hurt. Yor eyes are truly looking like it said in it. Interesting effect. Yor hair has changed, too, I sea."

"That was kind of a prank on me, and Hermione told me to keep it that way," Harry evaded the topic.

"Good look for strong man. I cannot do id, not enouf hair," Viktor laughed, rubbing his almost shorn head.

"Anyway, dere were quite a few howlers dropped in de Great Hall, yesderday. Yelling about yoh being fake and liar, so I guess your fan-mail was interesting, too. And half yor classmades dry to get away from yoh as if yoh were de dark lord, yourself, while the odder half pretends to be best friends. It is refreshing not to be center of attension, once in a while," he said while pouring himself some juice, occasionally stumbling over the words.

"Didn't know about the howlers. And yes, the mail was interesting," Harry huffed in reply. "At least I got some sweets for defeating the Dark Lord."

"Sweets? Dat would be nice for a change. For me, all I get sent is used girl underwear and invitations to their former content," Victor replied, sipping his goblet, and causing Dean, who had been listening in from a few seats away, to spit his juice across the table.

Harry wrinkled his nose, waving a pink envelope that reeked of perfume. "Tell me about it, half of my mail are marriage proposals!" He spat, throwing it on the pile.

"Yes, dat's the odder half ov my mail," Viktor replied with a wide, toothy grin, savouring their reactions.

"Den, the papers talk about yor abduct... ion? Is dat the right word? Yes? Yor abduction causing arrest of Minister Fudge, and the Crouch man, and anoder man is now free because yoh proved he was not guilty."

Harry couldn't deny that. "Well, yes, there have been some positive side effects," he grinned.

Viktor gave a rough, dry laugh in response to Harry's joke. "And then this girl sneaked into yor bed... The paper didn't ged into detail, but," Victor replied, waving his hand while whistling, waggling his eyebrows.

"That already made the papers?" Harry gasped, while Hermione dove for her Prophet. "How did they get wind of this, so fast?" she gasped as she skimmed the article on page four. "The name is completely wrong, but the facts are almost correct."

"Like I said, it is goot not being center of attention, at least I don't need to watch out for potions in my food, right now," Victor grinned.

"Yeah, that was a hard week, and it's not even half over, yet," Harry sighed. "Easter break is barely over, and I'm already fit for another long vacation."

"Yoh know whod?" Victor suddenly exclaimed. "I already invitid Hermimone to visit me offer summer before I found oud yoh were dating, yoh know. Yoh say yoh need holiday – we haff enuff room at home! Yoh both must come," Victor suddenly said, having had an epiphany.

"Victor, that offer is great, but my parents," Hermione tried to interrupt, but had no chance.

"Of course yor parents can come, too. Yor's too, Harry. We haff enough room. I insist," Victor left her no weasel room.

"We just don't want to intrude," Hermione tried, again, while Harry let that faux pas slide. Viktor was just being excited, and Harry would definitely not take the Dursleys on any vacation.

"Nonsense, you don't. Vill be vun to haff people around who are not fans. I'll show yoh Bulgaria, we haff beautiful land, castles, and great museums. And the food, I tell yoh," he said, staring down in mild disgust at the assorted meals on the table.

"Shall ve call yor parents?"

"You know telephones?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Vy not? Dey are only around, whod, a hundred years?" Victor chuckled.

Harry shrugged. "Neville, do you know what a telephone is?"

"Some device Muggles use to talk over large distances. I think it is part of a television set, but I'm not sure. I'd love to see one, tough," Neville replied. Harry looked at Krum, shrugging his shoulders apologetically.

"I see. British vizards do liff isolated, it seems," Victor agreed. "I vill send them formal invitason, ok?" he said, pulling a picture of himself and a small pin out of his vest pocket. Shaking the pin, it turned into a quill, while he turned the picture to take notes on the back.

"Gif me deir address, please," he prompted Hermione, who looked warily at Harry, who smiled back.

"Why not, it might be fun," he replied with a shrug and a smile. Hermione had no choice but to comply.

**AN:**

Much time went by since the last update, but I had 30 armed lunatics camping on my grounds for a week (Archery tournament), and lot's of other things to do.

I hope the chapter size alleviates the withdrawal symptoms...

Much thanks to alix33 for betaing, especially since my tablet keeps switching quotation marks for some reason, making the job so much harder for her.


	20. Like the flies

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 19: Like the flies**

Broderick Pinkerton once more had managed the unthinkable. He had prepared the currently most prominent prisoner's breakfast without spitting in it. _'After all, that would be just petty', _he thought as he arranged the bowl of porridge and the other things on the tray. Just seeing the once so vain man reduced to his bare essentials was fulfilling enough.

Whistling, he pinned the tray under his left arm, putting his wand into the box as he passed the door towards the holding area. Only Aurors and Hitwizards were allowed to carry wands into the area, and only they knew the combination for the tap-stone-mosaic next to the doorway. Anyone carrying a wand past this ward would be immediately petrified.

That's why men like Pinkerton guarded these pens. Big and strong. Most wizards were scrawny or chubby, and no good in a brawl. Facing a six foot and change person with a distinct carrot shape was all that was needed to keep them from doing something stupid while in here.

He was already wrestling with his key ring to produce the right one as he approached the door to the cells, proper. The heavy bolts on all four sides of the four inch strong oak door retracted with a very loud clank. Broderick loved the sound, especially when locking people in. It had an almost palpable finality to it.

Almost as much finality as the sight that he came upon when it swung open. It took a short moment for Broderick to realize the meaning as he stared at the legs dangling in his line of sight.

Dropping the tray and fumbling with his keys, he ran for the cell door, shouting for assistance while he did so.

It took him mere seconds to open the door and reach the prisoner, but the moment he slung his arms around the man to lift him up to relieve the strain on his neck, he knew he had come hours too late. It felt more like lifting a marble statue than a living human.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Bonjour, mes amis," 'Emilia' tweeted when she was let into the common room. Hermione rolled her eyes as she let the girl pass. Tonks was really getting into her new persona, and this was getting really annoying to Hermione, who actually spoke a bit, and loved, French.

"Neville still asleep?" She asked as she glanced around the empty common room.

"Most of Gryffindor is," Hermione remarked, stretching extensively.

"Can't be all early risers like you are," she commented. "Still problems with ze zleeping?"

Harry replied with a yawn. "I'll manage. A nap in the free period, and I'll be ok. I can always catch up on sleep on the weekend.

"You two might want to reorganize your sleeping habits iv zis keeps on," Tonks remarked.

Hermione was leaning her head to one side as she looked at her. "I beg your pardon? How should we do that? There are classes, and there is a curfew."

"Don't be zuch a stick-up-the-bottom person, girl. Classes are classes, but curfew only means zat you 'ave to be behind zis door," Tonks replied, thumbing over her shoulder at the portrait exit.

"Hmm, actually, that's right," Hermione pondered. "So what do you propose?"

"Vell, you could sleep after class, and do your assignments in ze nights, oui?"

"You know, apart from the fact that your accent really hurts my ears, I have to admit that this sounds like quite a good idea," Hermione admitted. "What do you think, Harry?"

"We can give it a try, I guess," Harry admitted with a slight blush.

"Of course he'd agree," 'Emilia' laughed. "As if he'd refuse a chance to grope you all afternoon while he pretends to be sleeping."

Hermione blushed, immediately. "Harry doesn't do that!"

"No? So it's ze dagger in ze back, zhen?" Tonks continued, stubborn like a badger on a mission.

Harry stood up, his head quite flushed. "I'll go and fetch Neville, better him than us."

"Do that. Meanwhile, I will give 'Emilia' English lessons, so she can drop this pretentious accent of hers," Hermione replied, glaring daggers at Tonks.

_**ooOOoo**_

The day went just fine, almost boring, until they sat down for dinner.

"'Allo, mes amis," Tonks tweeted as she suddenly took a seat opposite Hermione and Harry, right next to Neville, who immediately paled.

"Why, what, aren't," he stammered.

"I just could not get enough of mon cheri," Tonks/Emilia tweeted, and gave him a smooch on the cheek.

"Let me rephrase what he meant to say," Harry interrupted. "Why are you still here, isn't your shift over?" he asked, looking around for Dimaggio. While Tonks liked to mingle with the kids, Dimaggio was more fond of the shadow approach, and only hardly ever seen, but always around. But not now.

Tonks surprised him by casting a quick charm. Harry immediately realized the faint bubble that it erected around them. He was quite as surprised that he could recognize it as a silencing charm.

"Bad news, kids, Fudge is dead," she continued with the subtlety of a meat cleaver.

"What the bloody..." Harry started to voice his surprise, while Neville's chin dropped.

"Language, Harry," Hermione stopped him cold. "And I agree to what you had in mind. How did it happen? Wasn't he in a cell?"

"Yes, he was. He hanged himself from the window."

"And wasn't anyone watching over him?" Hermione inquired. "I'd guess you'd look after him every couple of hours."

Tonks frowned sourly before she replied. "Yeah, I guess we were careless to not permanently watch over him, in a cell where all furniture was stuck in their places, loaded with enough padding charms so he could have hit his head against anything in there for weeks without any effect, and no way to reach the window bars in fifteen feet height," she drawled.

"Oh," Hermione replied, blushing slightly. "So you think..."

"No. I don't think, suppose or believe. We know he had 'help', we know that the guard had been away for no more than fifteen minutes, and that window matches the estimated time of death."

"So it was an inside job?" Neville guessed.

"I'd be surprised if we didn't find at least two moles. Politics works out like that, kiddo. Sadly, we probably will not find the fourth or fifth one, who will be the one connected to the killers. Things happened this morning, so the news will leak out around noon. We're trying to salvage as much as we can while the cat's still in the bag, telling you to watch your heads is one of these things."

"Did you at least get something out of him?" Harry inquired, nibbling on some bacon.

"No, but he would have cracked in a day or two, he was already displaying the classic signs, I heard," Tonks huffed.

"How... Convenient," Harry remarked while reaching for his goblet.

"And now?" Hermione piped up, still a bit flushed.

"Bones wants us to try follow the money trail, but that always involved Fudge carrying the money to his vaults. We know the whens, we know who was pardoned, but not who paid the bribes. We can guess, but we have nothing good enough."

"So you and Dimaggio will get back to your normal duties, and everything will die down, I guess," Harry commented.

"Don't know anything about that. I think most of the fun is just about to begin - losing Fudge was pretty expensive to these people. There will be a new Minister, and getting the right one elected will be hard. We'll try to find out who is trying to set up candidates, just so we know whom to look into. But for the new Minister? Right now, my money is on Scrimgeur," Tonks replied with a shrug.

"That name rings a bell," Harry interrupted, while Hermione suddenly perked up.

"Wasn't he the one who led the arrest of Fudge?" She inquired, already sure to have gotten it right.

"Yeah, prancing around and basking in his glory. A stuffed bastard, but still better than anyone else. He's prominent now because of that case, and he has a good track record as Auror. Well better a honest bastard than a bought and paid for charmer, I say. Anyway, since Crouch is still at large, you two still need protection, and since I managed to keep my cover, Bones wants me to stay around till end of year, full time."

"Is that really necessary? I mean, they're tough and good in a fight, and this is Hogwarts, and, and," Neville blurted away in an almost panic.

"Thanks, Neville, good to know that you would be willing to throw us to the wolves to save your own hide," Harry chuckled.

"They're only Death Eaters! She is the real evil!" Neville protested.

"I feel almost honoured, Neville. But think of it, I might even get to sneak into your bed at night," Tonks tweeted while cuddling cutely into his arm.

"See?" Neville squeaked, but Harry couldn't miss that he didn't try to free his arms from where it was squished against her bosom. His resistance was obviously crumbling.

"Hush, you," Tonks said with a smile, releasing him. "Apart from Crouch, there's still the chance someone wants to take his anger out on you for being the stumbling block for Fudge. Also, there is added security needed for the final event of this tournament, so we're to hang around for that, too," she counted off reasons for her to be there.

Hermione had her own reasons to question that plan. "Isn't that a huge inconvenience for you, being here all the time?"

"Yeah, this," Neville agreed, hastily.

"Isn't he cute," Tonks giggled. "But no, it's quite nice. Full-time assignment means that they take over my rent while I'm away, here at Hogwarts I get free meals, I can use the library as much as I want to refresh and increase my grimoire, and I get paid overtime for hanging out with you."

"They even send a housekeeper to my flat once a week - it will be sparkling when I get back," she all but squealed.

"Talking about getting back - we found Mad-Eye. He was locked in that blasted trunk of his. Thing was so warded we needed a curse-breaker from Gringotts to get it open. Good bloke, know him from school. Moody was lucky he was back in Britain for a bit. Of course, the Goblins charged us as if they'd flown him in extra for us," she continued.

"Finally some good news," Hermione sighed. "Harry? What are you doing?" she asked when Harry had leaned forward and did something to the plate in front of her.

"Nothing, you had a bug crawling on your scones. I flicked it away," Harry replied while returning to his grilled lamb chops.

"Ew. Thank you. Anyway, is Professor Moody alright?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it alright, he was badly starved and roughed up, but I heard he's already driving the nurses in St. Mungo's crazy, so he seems to be recovering," Tonks replied.

ooOOoo

Early next morning, Tonks found her charges in the common room, finishing their essays.

"Bonjour, you two, where's Neville? Are you two done? You look better zhan yesterday, already," she commented.

Hermione granted her the honour of briefly looking up from her homework. "He should be down in a minute. And thanks. It's a bit weird, but sleeping after dinner till curfew actually made a difference."

"When I sleep made no big difference to me, as long as I get my sleep, I'm fine," Harry replied.

"That's because you sleep like a stone once you lie down. I was fighting my inner clock for quite a while," Hermione said with an accusing tone.

Harry snorted loudly "More like fighting your urge to do your assignments, immediately," he teased. "I'll have you know that the first thing on her mind when we woke up was to start our homework," he told Tonks.

"Only because I didn't know if we'd manage to stay up long enough or need to go to sleep, again!" Hermione defended herself.

"Yeah, and we not only stayed up for them, but read ahead, took another nap and now even finished some leftover assignments for later this year," Harry replied , most sarcastic. "Come to think of it, we were really productive."

"You had, like, eight hours to work on them, and seem to be well rested for ze first time in this week. I swear, you two were all over ze place, from euphoric to only that far from maiming somebody, flying off ze handle by ze slightest provocation, all within a few moments," Tonks told them while pinching her fingers to show an almost non-existing distance.

"I wasn't that bad, was I?" Hermione asked in a small voice, making an adorably awkward face while she asked.

"Girl, you out-bitched me on my period days, and I am legend," Tonks laughed. "Harry, well, I know now why the school motto stated it is a bad thing to disturb a dragon's sleep," she added. "I think we were lucky you didn't kill anyone."

"You should have seen him before he had training to keep his temper," Hermione replied with a laugh, while Harry ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Really? He already had training? Wow. Whoever did that, Malfoy should send him some scotch, he owes him his life. Come to think of it, Ollivander, too. You surprised me when you flipped out at his innocent comment."

"Speaking of surprises, as if the death of Fudge wasn't enough disturbance to the public, Aurors are currently scraping what's left of Rita Skeeter from the Great Hall's floor," Tonks continued casually as she sat down next to them.

"Urgh! Scraping?" Hermione inquired with disgust.

"Yepp, literally. Mister Finch found her this morning near the Ravenclaw table. From the looks of it, a building collapsed on her, before she was run over by Hippogriffs, and then a giant tap-danced on the remains. We were only able to identify her by her clothes and glasses. You two know anything about this?"

"What? No, just heard it from you! Was it really that bad? Wow. How did that happen – do we have a killer in Hogwarts?" Harry inquired while Hermione battled the dry heaves her stomach insisted on after that description. Tonks seemed somewhat relieved by Harry's surprised reaction.

"If we do, he's cleverer than us. There were no residues of magic, no witnesses. Very mysterious - Filch said he was sure she wasn't there at midnight, that's when he last walked through the Great Hall. We even checked his memory of that, and it's true, he even walked past that spot – no way he could have missed her."

"Strange," Harry replied.

Tonks confirmed his statement with a nod. "You two keep an eye out, ok? I'll watch extra careful, but I can't watch everything at all times."

Harry silently nodded back, already vowing to himself to take care to watch over Hermione.

ooOOoo

Walking down to the Great Hall, the group ran into some Aurors blocking the entrance, still. While most of them minded their own business, one of them, a guy with a leonine tawny mane and a slight limp approached and stopped them.

"Mister Potter? I'm Rufus Scrimgeour, head of Auror office," he introduced himself, before shaking every hand in turn, only briefly hesitating when Mademoiselle Papillion held out her hand to him with a smile.

"How can I help you?" Harry inquired after introductions were done. "Is it about..." he said, nodding towards the doors, where two Aurors were currently levitating a casket out through the crowd slowly building up.

"No, don't worry, Mister Potter. We got that situation in hand. I was wondering if I could talk to you with a different topic in mind," was the reply he got.

Scrimgeour was taking a small break to put his words in order, before continuing, with his voice a few tads lower.

"You see, Mister Potter, I am currently applying for the office of Minister of Magic, and I do believe it would be quite helpful for my campaign if you could find it in yourself to endorse me as a candidate," he laid his plans bare.

Harry was thoroughly surprised by this. "I don't know what to say. I doubt my word would hold any weight, at all, and I'm not sure if I should...," he stammered.

"I know, this is sudden, and I certainly didn't mean to impose on you. I just wanted to sound out whether we could find an arrangement, after all, we two are on the same side, which sadly can't be said of all candidates," Scrimgeour replied, before, almost out of nowhere, switching topic.

"Do you two have plans for after Hogwarts? I strongly suggest that you two apply for Auror Academy, you'd have a bright future there," he told Harry, including Hermione in the new topic.

"Huh?" was the eloquent reply of Harry, who was completely caught on the wrong foot, just as well as Hermione.

"I have seen the memory of that fight and I simply must implore you two to consider a career within law enforcement," he told the astounded teens, Hermione even more than Harry.

"Me? Law enforcement? I can understand that Harry seems a promising candidate, but me?" she voiced her doubts.

Scrimgeour smiled magnanimously. "Miss Granger, while Mister Potter showed astonishing reflexes, power and resilience to spells - shrugging off a stunner like that was almost as impressive as the... other... curse - you also were showing supreme skills," he started, counting off on his fingers.

"You don't give up, you adapt to situations that seem hopeless, you are vicious when it is needed, and stood your ground against two death eaters."

"Who were already badly wounded," Hermione protested.

"As were you, but they were experienced wizards, while you, not to insult you, haven't even taken your OWLs, yet," Scrimgeour retorted. "Also, there are signs that you might be extremely talented and powerful, maybe even more than Mister Potter."

Now Hermione was staring at him, confused. "There are?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.

"You might not have noticed in the confusion of the fight, but in the end, you didn't grab a wand, but Mister Potter's arm to cast spells with," Scrimgeour spoke with a slightly barking chuckle. "And your spells still came out as if you had used a wand, which suggests that you have a talent for wandless magic. Well cultivated, this talent could solidify, and called upon outside of situations of extreme stress," he praised her, when he got a sign from one of the Aurors at the doors.

"Seems we are done here. Please excuse me, duty is calling. Mister Potter, I hope we'll keep in contact," he bade his goodbye, shook hands, and left.

"What was that?" a completely flabbergasted Harry asked Tonks as soon as the man had vanished.

"Politics," Neville replied before Tonks. Thankfully, Tonks elaborated on that statement.

"He tried to get you to endorse him, but when you were reluctant, he changed topics and tried to curry favour with you, in order to have a better leg to stand on when he meets you again. And that will happen soon, I guess, the election isn't that far away. Usually, it takes four weeks," she said as they followed the crowd into the Great Hall.

"I don't know. Would it really help him? And is this the right thing to do?" Harry asked as they approached their seats, where he paused for a moment. "It was over there," he whispered to Hermione, pointing out a space across the Ravenclaw table, just about fifteen feet away.

"Thanks, I could have lived without that knowledge," Hermione growled back. Still, she sat down at her usual seat, reaching for tea.

"I guess it could help, you being a hero, at the moment. It all boils down to the question if you want to do it," Neville explained.

Harry nodded, thoughtfully. "What do you think?" he addressed Tonks.

Tonks had to swallow her scone before she could answer. "I told you. Scrimgeour is a stuffed bastard, but he's still the best man for the job, I guess. At least he is known to do something, and not in anyone's pocket."

"How do the elections work?" Harry asked, ignoring the first owls flying into the Great Hall, while Tonks and Neville started giving him the basics.

ooOOoo

"And a week later, the old Minister leaves all the business to the new one, and is officially dismissed, ending the transitional period," Neville concluded.

"Well said, cheri," Tonks lauded him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, honey," Neville said absent-mindedly while Harry asked for details on something, patting her thigh under the table casually. It came so unexpected that Tonks actually froze for a moment when he did so.

"Anything interesting in the paper?" Tonks said a bit sharply when she caught Hermione grinning at her.

Hermione didn't flinch the least. "More interesting than what happens under tables these days? Not really," she said with a smirk, before flicking through the Prophet, once more. "Big headlines about Fudge, his life and death and the charges against him. Also, they are doing an eulogy on Skeeter, and are claiming she got killed for getting to close to some awful truth someone would have liked staying hidden. They promise to get to the bottom of this," she recited.

Tonks snorted derisively. "If they think they are smarter than we are, they're my guest. I'd like to know what happened to her, as well."

"Say, is it me or are we getting less mail today," Neville remarked as he relieved an owl of its letter. In fact, there were only a few handfuls of letters on the table.

"Cheri, it's been a few days, and new headlines. People rarely care more than a few days," Tonks mumbled into her cup.

"And I, for one, am glad about that. The sooner I'm left in peace, the better," Harry said, raising his cup. "To short attention spans!"

ooOOoo

Over the next week, Harry truly came to regret his toast, as the public opinion did another of the almost traditional about-faces in regard to his person.

It started off with the Prophet, lacking any other big news, re-running all of Skeeter's latest articles, this time with comments on them that tried to find out what secret Skeeter had found to deserve her untimely demise.

Of course, almost all of them were about either Harry or Hermione, and those rehashes, and the conspiracy theories the commentaries spun alongside, didn't really help their public image. By the end of the week, it had become so bad that not only the good fan mail had ceased, there were also already some really creepy negative ones arriving.

"Another letter?" Harry asked in desperation when an owl landed on the table during Friday's breakfast. "What will it be now? More insults and threats?"

"What do you expect, being the puppeteer in a huge conspiracy – it had to come to light, eventually," Neville replied with a smirk, ducking a bit too late to evade the flying scone.

"Very funny. But seriously, why do all these crazy ones write first, and the less worse letters come only when the big outrage starts?" Harry complained.

"Cheri, zhe ones who hate you already don't need much to write you. The less bad letters mean that everybody hates you, even the normal people. Which is almost the case, by now. Even Scrimgeour knows that – remember how he all but fled from you when he came back for re-examination of the site? His public image is tanking because people blame him for not solving the Skeeter case, and the last he wants is to be seen with you, who is suspected to be involved, somehow.

"Well, that's a positive, but I swear, if it's another one made out of newspaper clippings, I'll take time off to find the sender and deliver him to the nearest mental ward," Harry huffed.

"Appropriate, but I'm afraid that comes too late in this particular case," Hermione replied in her sarcasm voice, handing the letter over to him. The scrawl that should be Harry's name gave the sender away, immediately.

"Oh, it's from Sirius!" Harry exclaimed happily, ripping the thick envelope open. The huge bundle of papers almost spilled over the table once it was freed of its confinement.

"What is that?" Harry asked, bewildered of the scene.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I'd wager a bet the enclosed letter would help us along on the endless voyage we need to embark on in order to solve that immense mystery," she remarked, receiving only a blank look in return. "Oh, honestly! Just read it!" she said as she picket the actual letter up, thrusting it at Harry.

"I guess he's angry with me," he said after a few moments of reading.

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled in disbelief. "Really? Why?"

"Dear Mister I'm too good to answer my soon-to-be father's calls," Harry read out loud.

"Sounds like you're in trouble, Mister," Tonks heckled.

"I've been calling you for days during your free periods, with no reply, and even a series of cannon bang charms didn't seem to get your attention..."

"So that was that noise yesterday! Scared us almost to death, but we couldn't find out where it came from," Neville cried out.

"When was that?"

"During your afternoon nap."

Hermione shrugged. "Figures."

"Which means that you did not read my letter and just packed the two-way mirror away somewhere – how am I supposed to call you when you don't have it with you?" Harry continued.

"Oh, that's what it was for? I thought he just gave me another heirloom!" he said sheepishly.

"Didn't he mention it in the letter? What did it say?" Hermione asked, sampling her baked beans. Harry immediately took on an expression she knew too well.

"Boys," Hermione huffed. "Why do you never read something fully, and always jump to your conclusions, instead?"

Harry blushed, but held his own against her glare. "To my defence, Malfoy disturbed me when I was reading that letter, remember?"

"Excuses, excuses. What does this one say, next?"

"Well," Harry said, scanning the final foot of parchment. "I think he's telling me to call him, but I'm not sure," he said, turning the letter around for others to see.

"Could be, but he could have written it another hundred times to make his point a wee bit clearer," Tonks commented, her eyes squinted.

ooOOoo

After classes, Harry finally found the time to call Sirius. Retiring to their hide-out, they sat on the couch, Harry taking a deep breath before he called out Sirius. Name to the mirror.

Within a second, Aunt Sophie's face appeared in the mirror. "Black residence, can I help you, Sir?" she said in a very professional tone.

"Hello! I didn't expect you to pick up," Harry confessed, slightly awkward. "Is Sirius around?"

"Do you have an appointment, Sir?" Sophie replied.

"Huh? Appointment?"

"Mister Black insists that all strangers arrange an appointment, Sir," Sophie replied, still completely professional, staring at something on the side. "I could squeeze you in for November, 12th, around eleven o'clock, if you want."

Harry's stupid stare finally broke Sophie, and she started laughing. Hermione was already well ahead, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to suppress her laughter, curled up beside Harry. Finally, she could join in and started laughing like mad.

"Yeah! I get it, I should have called earlier, I'm sorry!" Harry growled when he realized he had been had.

"You had better remember, kiddo. Honey, you won't be able to guess who finally called," Sophie called out, wiping some tears away. Only a moment later, Sirius' face appeared next to Sophie's in the mirror.

"Now if this isn't my long-lost yet-to-become son," he mocked.

"Oh, come on – it's not as if I had vanished without a trace, I just misread your letter, and had a lot around my head, so I forgot about the mirror," Harry ranted back. "Anyway, sorry for not calling, what's the news? And what are these papers for, half of them are in Goblin runes, according to Hermione."

"Hy," Hermione giggled in the background, waving at the mirror, with Sophie returning her greeting.

"Hey girl, looking perky – your parents told me to greet you, they hope you are well. If you want, I could take the mirror to them so you could talk!" she called out, shoving herself into the center of the picture.

Hermione was almost radiating happiness at the prospect of talking to her parents while at Hogwarts. "That would be soooo great," she replied with the biggest smile.

"Are you womenfolk done blabbing? We men have to talk important business, here," Sirius interrupted, shutting that conversation up, at the cost of a bruised back of his head.

"Women," he sighed, rubbing his scalp. "If we as much as tickle them, we're savage brutes, but if they all but maim us, we're just being whiny if we complain."

"And your point is?" Sophie inquired with an innocent voice, but cracking her knuckles.

"Nothing, honey, nothing – about that papers, Harry," Sirius quickly changed topic.

"Yes," Harry replied, shaking his head at their antics.

"These are the adoption papers, if you're still interested," he tried explaining, not getting any further before Harry interrupted.

"Of course I am!"

"Then maybe you should have called, sooner," Sirius drove his point home. "Where was I... Ah, yes, the papers. You need to sign all of them, every single one, at the bottom right line, with an adult witness countersigning. Ask McGonagall, she would help you, I guess."

"I think I have that covered."

"Good. I've set it up that way that you stay a Potter, are getting an equal share to my own kids, and whatever you get from the Black estate would get integrated in the Potter one in case of you inheriting, even if you are the sole heir. I believed you don't want to go through all that hassle with dual family patronage, needing two wives and stuff," Sirius ended with teasing Harry. His face fell when Harry immediately agreed to that, not noticing how Hermione's frown behind him immediately turned into an expression of pure bliss.

"Told you so," Sophie purred with a satisfied smirk as Sirius handed a bundle of banknotes over. "Mommy's getting a new spectrometer," she cheered. Harry looked horrified when she leaned over and whispered into Sirius' ear that they'd still try what he had proposed for his price. Sirius and Sophie blushed profoundly when they realized his expression.

"Stop judging us," Sirius grumbled.

"Then stop grossing me out – remember, I'm your almost son," Harry replied.

Sirius smirked. "You could have been more than that. Before James courted Lilly, we two ended up quite cosy during a Quidditch victory match, and..."

"Bye! End call!" Harry hastily cried out, causing the mirror to go dark. He immediately wrapped the mirror, and shoved it under a pillow, out of sight. "I'm starting to wonder if living with that man is the right thing for my nerves," he sighed while leaning back on the couch. "What are you up to? Isn't it time for our nap?" he asked when Hermione rose at the same time.

"So, you think that you'd never want any woman but me?" she echoed his earlier statement.

Harry was looking quite insecure after her question. "Ummm, yes? Is that wrong, somehow?"

"Absolutely not," Hermione said as she started charming the door locked, before conjuring up a brick wall before it.

"Boy, are you in for a treat, Potter," she purred throatily.

ooOOoo

About a week went by with almost boring regularity, apart from occasional calls with Hermione's parents and Sirius. Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione had fully adopted their new sleeping schedule, and Neville had grown a thicker fur, which pleased Tonks, but also meant a challenge to her.

Of course, she gladly rose to it, as it was obvious by the slightly nervous look Neville sported again. It had been a gradual thing. At first, Harry only heard Neville gasp occasionally, but whatever Tonks used to torture him, she always did it when their backs were turned or they were busy with something. Neville was absolutely unwilling and/or unable to tell, so Hermione and Harry were growing curious, but remained clueless. Until now.

"No, you didn't," Harry gasped.

"Did vat, Monsieur? Tonks replied, and only the way she sat up slightly straighter gave away that she was caught in the act.

"You finally caught her?" Hermione gasped. "What is it?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, there was nothing visible to me, so I guess it is targeted at a person," Harry began, "but when she leaned forward to reach for the jam, I saw her dress flare with magic for but a second," he said with a smirk.

Hermione' head spun around towards Tonks. "You didn't!" She gasped.

"T'was only the dress," Tonks mumbled, for the first time blushing, if only faintly. "It was purely educational," she defended herself.

"Mister Potter?" McGonagall interrupted as she approached the table, saving Tonks, for now.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You are to go down to the Quidditch pitch on Wednesday, nine o'clock in the evening. You will need to attend a meeting of the Champions."

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly. "But I was disqualified," he reminded his head of house.

"Irrelevant, Mister Potter. You still need to attend all official events. This is one of them. Nine o'clock, sharp, Mister Potter," he got corrected on his assumptions of being out of the tournament, before she simply walked past them.

"Crap," Harry summed up his feelings.

ooOOoo

"So you ruined a perfectly good Quidditch pitch to grow a maze that could have been grown anywhere?" Harry asked Bagman after he had shown the contestants what they had done.

"It can be reversed easily, but we needed the seats for the spectators," Bagman replied.

"Who will see what?" Harry asked, pointing at the huge hedges, which blocked all view, even from up here in the stands.

"Harry, mate, I doubt they thought about that. After all, the second task went by with everybody staring bored at the lake," Cedric remarked.

"A true spektator sport," Viktor chuckled.

"My parents vill be zho glad to be vatching a hedge during their attendance," Fleur added, not wanting to be left out.

"Zo will de Minister of Bulgaria, I suppose," Krum agreed.

"Well, hum, yes, I think we should see to that," Bagman stuttered in embarrassment. "Anyway, the contestants will start in order of their current score, with a second penalty per point, which means that," he said, ruffling some parchment," Mister Diggory starts first, Mister Krum sixteen seconds later, followed by Miss Delacour, five seconds later. Mister Potter would start fifteen seconds later."

Harry was the first to howl on protest. "Wait a minute – I'm disqualified, I won't start, at all!"

"The rules aren't quite clear on that, Mister Potter, you could still compete, and in the end, it only matters who is first to reach the cup. He would receive full marks, and with points this close, that's the victory," Bagman obviously tried to talk Harry into it.

"I. Will. Not. Participate," Harry growled, his face close to Bagman's. The man only held his reptilian gaze for a few moments, before he turned and called for everyone to follow him for the rest of the tour.

ooOOoo

"The nerve," Harry growled as they walked back towards the castle.

Cedric laughed. "You made your point quite clear, though. Thanks, you not competing made this cup mine," he chuckled.

"Big words, Englishman, for someone living on a country with nothing we would call a forest," Krum teased from their left. "I bet you run in circles for hours. I'll pick you up on my vay back!"

"And I will wait for you zere, after I'm done with my victory photograph and ze interviews," Fleur joked from behind, causing everyone to break step.

"Blimey, she can be witty if she chooses to speak," Cedric laughed. "Took you long enough to thaw!"

"Must be ze frigid weather here," was the snarky reply, shivering theatrically. Harry couldn't help but snort, with Victor slapping Cedric's shoulder.

"Be glad, Englishman, if you met her at Durmstrang, she would have been much worse, then," he roared. "But she's right, let's get inside, I could do with a hot beverage. You know, we all need to sit together and talk, soon this will all be over, and we'll be too busy in the next weeks, right?"

"We could sneak down to the kitchens," Harry proposed.

Fleur stared at him with a shocked expression. "Fraternizing with ze enemy?"

"Count me in," she added with a bedazzling smile.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Took you long enough," Hermione remarked when Harry finally arrived at the common room.

"Yeah, we decided to warm up with some chocolate in the kitchens," Harry replied as he sat down next to her, throwing his cloak over the chair. "Weather is still chilly, just a hint of fog, enough to get you feeling damp."

"We?"

"The other Champions. We realized we hadn't much time to get to know each other, and they will be busy preparing for the task, so we just made up a plan on the spot."

"So she was there?"

"Who? Fleur? Yes, quite a nice girl, actually, once she thaws," Harry said, chuckling over the joke only he understood. "You know what, she actually apologized for calling me a little boy when we first met," he remarked, jumping slightly when someone tapped his shoulder.

Turning around, he found himself face to face with George Weasley, who looked at him with amusement. "Harry, a word of advice. If you come home from a spontaneous party, at almost midnight, the last thing your girlfriend wants to hear is how nice a beautiful girl you met there was," he grinned, patting Harry's shoulder.

His eyes slightly widening in realization, Harry slowly turned around to look into Hermione's stoic face. "Oh Hermione, you know me, I never," he started explaining, interrupted by George rising, clearing his throat, loudly.

"Excuse me, I've heard the song of our people often enough. Good night, Hermione, good grovelling, Harry," he said, tipping his imaginary hat to them. "Don't be too hard on the lad, he simply doesn't know, Hermione," he whispered as he passed her on his way to the stairs.

Harry's hope lasted just as long as the brief smile that flickered on her face.

_**AN:**_

"Is that a flame-thrower on your back, boss?" Embi asked carefully. People with flame-throwers on their back aren't to be scared or spoken to without due respect – a rule you need to know in advance in this evil overlord business.

"Yeah," the Dark Lord Cliffy growled back.

"What did the minions do now?" Embi sighed.

"Minions? No, not this time. It's the ragweed in the garden, I've had enough of it. One way or the other, one of us has to give," he growled as he ignited the pilot flame and stomped off.

"I'd say your sanity was the first one to give, but then, I'm not quite sue you ever had something like that," Embi whispered as she looked after him.

_**ooOOoo**_

Yeah, I'm still there, and sadly, so is the ragweed that I'd get massively fined for. Apart from the massive work to get my barns full for the coming winter, fighting that weed takes up a lot of time I could use for writing. On the other hand, my flame-thrower is making eradicating that stuff a lot more fun.


	21. The final task

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 20: The final task**

"Mister Potter, can we have a word?" McGonagall, accompanied by Dumbledore, interrupted Harry's breakfast.

Sighing, Harry looked up at them. "If this is another attempt to interfere in my family life, you can spare us all the time and effort," he grumbled.

Ever since he had forwarded the adoption papers to McGonagall a week ago, the Headmaster had tried to wrangle concessions out of Harry. Harry guessed that this meant that all attempts to undo the adoption had been blocked. As Sirius had told him, as despicable as lawyers are in general, having a bunch of them on your side makes them barely tolerable.

McGonagall shot Dumbledore a glare over her shoulder when that barb struck. She hadn't been too pleased by his attempts to dictate the boy's life.

"Rest assured that there will be nothing like that coming from me, Mister Potter," she said, giving Dumbledore a glare that was usually reserved for students of the Weasley twin type. It seemed to be affecting the Headmaster slightly, but Harry doubted Dumbledore would try something in public – being told to bugger off in his office certainly should be enough of a warning.

Satisfied with the lack of answer, Professor McGonagall continued.

"I must apologize for the inconvenience, but I just realized that your change in status also means a change in planning the tournament," she began. The headmaster's minuscule frown was enough to get her Harry's undivided attention. If Dumbledore wasn't happy with whatever she was talking about, Harry was sure he'd like it.

"As you might know, the family of each champion was invited to be present for the final task," she explained. "Of course, we got no reply from your relatives," she confirmed Harry's immediate thoughts. He squeezed Hermione's hand, which has found her way into his at these words, back in gratitude for her support.

"Headmaster Dumbledore made the proposal to invite the Weasley family, instead, as a surprise to you, with which I went along," she told the now slightly surprised boy. "It occurred to me, today, that since your family status has changed, you probably would like to have your father attend."

Harry was slightly confused, as this was completely new to him. "Of course I do," he finally replied with a goofy smile.

"Very well, then. I'll contact your father, and inform the Weasleys of the change of plan," McGonagall replied, but Dumbledore didn't like that arrangement.

"Professor, I believe that the Weasleys should attend, as well. After all, they were a surrogate family to Harry for years, and I certainly do not want to be the one who has to tell Molly," he proposed.

To Harry, this made no difference. He did like most of the Weasleys, and as long as Sirius would come, too, it was fine with him. His nod of agreement was returned with the same gesture by his Head of house, who turned and walked away, Dumbledore by her side.

"Also, it's only fair after Bill volunteered to take Alastor's part in the preparation of the task," Professor Dumbledore continued convincing his Deputy as they walked off.

"They got Bill-bloody-Weasley to set up the task?" Tonks said with a low whistle.

This piqued Hermione's interest. "Why is this important?"

"Because he's the curse breaker that set Moody free. And a bloody lunatic – he taught the twins pranking, and they'd rather kiss Snape than prank him. We were in the same year, the only time he was ever pranked, his retribution was epic. That particular wizard is afraid of daisies to this day," she whispered.

"Why do I suddenly feel elated that I do not need to go through this task, at all?" Harry sprang the rhetoric question, thoughtfully tapping his chin with a rasher of bacon.

_**ooOOoo**_

Since exams were only two weeks ahead, Hermione had put her foot down that this was the absolute minimum for 'real' revision needed, after the soft 'revision phase' of the last weeks. Harry and Neville had a different interpretation of soft, but soon realized that Hermione really had a 'hard' setting on her study scale if she was allowed to set the tone. For them, it was like she turned it up to eleven, then ripped out the scale, and added a hand-crafted twelve to it.

A week later, that schedule started to show.

"You guys look awful," Tonks stated during dinner. "You really should tone that revising down a notch. I mean, I don't mind spending time at the library polishing my skills while you do, but me thinks you are pushing it far beyond your limits."

"If you can make her stop, I'll do whatever you want," Neville whined. "Seriously, I never realized that you three revised that much all these years."

"Me, neither," Harry replied, trying to keep his eyes open and focused on the pie he was trying to grab. "Weasley never made it that long and ranted until he had his break, so we never reviewed for more than an hour or two, right, Hermione?"

"Hermione?" he had to ask once more, scaring the witch next to him out of her stare at her plate.

"Sorry, I kind of blacked out," she said with a blush. "What were you saying?"

Tonks had to laugh at her face. "They both told me enough to make me relieve you from command. You three are under orders to stand down and rest. You all are completely exhausted, and this will end badly if I don't put a stop to it."

Hermione was awake in an instant. "We can't! We have exams in just a few days!"

"Girl, you just zoned out on us during conversation. You need rest - if you keep going on like that, you are likely to pass out from exhaustion during exams."

"Oh my god, that would be awful!" Hermione gasped. "You're right, we'll limit ourselves to four hours a day, from now on," she proposed.

"Three?" she said in a small voice, when three pairs of eyes glared at her.

"I tell you what, I'll grant you two hours. That should keep you all well prepared, and still rested enough, alright?" Tonks replied with a smile, reaching out for Hermione, who shook her hand playfully.

"Deal!"

_**ooOOoo**_

"**Undersecretary Umbridge steps up to take the mantle!"**

The Prophet's picture of the woman in a frilly, pink robe and cardigan looked more like she would have to jump up to take anything. Toads don't walk.

"She made it? Really?" Tonks gasped. "How on earth did that happen?"

"Dunno, but the campaign must have spent a fortune on photographs, alone. Must have been tough to find one where she doesn't look like Trevor's dream date," Neville quipped.

"Neville!" Hermione gasped, scandalized.

"What, she does look like a toad in a dress!" Neville defended himself.

"That's not the point! You shouldn't judge someone by his looks!" Hermione ranted at him. "Just look at Harry, do you think it would be ok if somebody gave him trouble because of his eyes?" she hissed at him.

"Well, I guess he would get trouble for his hair, more often," Neville joked. "He looks like a girl from behind with that mane of his."

"Oy! You know why I wear them that way, Longbottom!" Harry's curse rash had spread out during the last weeks, and had now reached from his lower back up to his shoulders, where it terminated in two angry welts that criss-crossed his neck. Having his hair open and fanned out was the best way to conceal that.

Neville only then realized that he had hit a sore spot with Hermione. His ears were tainted red when he stammered a reply. "No, of course not, I'm sorry."

"As true as this is – and you really should be ashamed, Neville – she is a nasty piece of work. Ran into her on one or two occasions, she is a true witch, if you replace the first letter by a 'B'," Tonks tried to run interference.

"Whatever, she can't be any worse at the job than Fudge, right? Currently, the only letter that's on my mind is the 'O' I want to get in Transfiguration," Hermione huffed, putting the Prophet away. "And that won't happen if we are late!"

_**ooOOoo**_

"Finally! We're done!"

Ron Weasley's loud cry of triumph when they left the History classroom summed up what most of them thought after the last exam for the year. Harry truly felt like he had done something even worse than a Triwizard Cup task. Back then, the only thing that was after him were dragons, or merepeople. This time, he had to endure a study marathon and exams that really hurt his brain.

"As much as it pains me to agree with him, Weasley is right," he sighed. "And they say that next year will be even harder."

"We simply will have to start revising earlier," Hermione said, looking much better for wear than the others, almost refreshed. Of course, her comment caused two pairs of bloodshot eyes to focus on her, and two frowns to materialize.

"With the lighter schedule, of course," Hermione tried to talk herself out of it.

"Hermione, I love you dearly, but if you say one more word like 'study' or 'revise' before next October, the least, I swear, I..." Neville said, never finishing his sentence as Tonks made herself heard.

"Will do exactly as you say, or you, Harry or Emilia will kick my ass," she said as she fell in step next to them. "Right, mon cheri?"

Neville sighed as he turned his head to talk to her. "Let me at least vent my anger properly. And it's not as if you would be there to do this," he said with a smirk at her.

"So you don't want me to promise to wait for you?" she pouted back at him, her eyes swimming with unshod tears. Harry was pretty sure that it was on command – given that she could alter her body to about any shape she wanted, crying on cue was probably easy.

"I.. you... I..." Neville stammered while fighting a blush. He had come to a full stop, his mouth wide open. His friends had noticed immediately, of course. They currently were sniggering at him as he stood there, all their classmates, passing him by as they continued to lunch.

"You are kidding me, again," he said in a reproachful tone. The fact that Tonks wasn't sniggering, at all, but hemming and hawing to give an answer, immediately shut down the sniggers of Harry and Hermione. They now were staring at Tonks, realizing that this hadn't been fully in jest.

"You see, Neville, I... I like you, and I've already invested so much effort pounding you into something boyfriend-shaped. You see, you are almost fifteen, so it's just a couple of years. I'm not promising anything, but..." Tonks made a vague statement.

"Really? Me? Why? I'm nothing special, not even someone to look at," Neville replied in disbelieve. Tonks sniggered lightly.

"Neville, you are someone really special, once you get out of your shell you are a really great bloke. And trust me, some exercise and a nice haircut would do wonders for you. Girls would stand in line! I know I would," Tonks replied.

"So you really like me?" Neville stammered, only now realizing that she wasn't pulling his leg, which was Hermione's cue to grab Harry and pull him away.

"Hey, it's just getting interesting," he protested, trying to listen in on their conversation.

"Harry, I swear, if you ruin this for them, you'll regret it," Hermione ranted as she pulled him further away, being noisy on purpose to keep him from listening in too closely.

"What? Oh, come on, you really think that this will work out?" Harry replied as they turned towards the staircase.

"I don't know, but if you give them any trouble..." Hermione replied, letting the threat hang in the air.

"Who's in trouble?" A familiar voice rang out. Hermione almost stumbled as she stopped and stared at her mother and father standing in front of them. While she still was staring, a smiling Sirius stepped past her parents, his arms wide and a huge smile on his face.

"I hope you are alright, my Son," he greeted them, with Sophie waving from behind.

The cries of "Mum" and "Sirius" echoed through the hallway as the two people mentioned were tackled in hugs.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked as she was taking turns hugging her Mum and aunt Sophie.

"Sirius' invitation was for two, and he said he wasn't going to choose, and decided to drag us along, quite literally," Margret explained, being currently able to breathe.

"Muggles cannot approach Hogwarts without a wizard leading them. Can an old dog get a hug for this?" Sirius replied with a broad smile. Hermione happily complied, even adding a little peck on his cheek as she whispered "Thank you."

"Hey! No poaching!" Sophie ruined the moment, reclaiming her man and kissing him, properly.

"Marking your territory, aunt Sophie?" Hermione laughed, while Margret commented in her own way.

"Maybe she wants Sirius to finally mark his territory?" she teased.

A blink of an eye later, Sirius was gone. In his place, Padfoot stood next to Sophie, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he slowly lifted his leg against her.

"Don't you dare!" Sophie screeched as she jumped out of the danger zone.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I'm still not sure this is safe," Margret said as they stepped off the last moving staircase. "What if someone steps into nothing at night?"

"That's what curfew is for," Sirius came to Hermione's aid. "To be honest, there never was any accident with falling off the stairs, unbelievable as it seems," he tried to put an end to the topic. Margret had not stopped complaining about them ever since she stepped on them on their way up. Sophie told him that Margret had a bit of a problem with heights, but this was bordering on obsessive.

"We need to get out and turn right, the Quidditch pitch is there," he told them.

Harry was less enthusiastic. "Or what's left of it," he muttered morosely, while Hermione continued her running commentary of all things Hogwarts related.

The Ravenclaw student who had beed press-ganged into corralling the VIPs to their seats was less than pleased with them. According to his list, there only should have been Potter and Black plus one. Both of them showing up with an additional woman would put quite a strain on the arrangements. But he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell neither of these notorious characters that they would need to part with their dates.

When they finally stepped onto the platform of the seating area reserved for guests, they realized that Harry hadn't been kidding.

"Sweet Merlin," Sirius gasped.

"Didn't you tell us that it should look like a bit like a rugby field?" Henry inquired, his gaze glued to the sight.

"It should," Sirius replied, almost in tears.

"Did that hedge just move? I swear it did, over there!" Margret cried out as she witnessed the maze changing the route randomly.

"This is almost like that game, you know the crazy labyrinth one," Hermione remarked. "Only that I doubt that there are treasures hidden along the way," she said, reacting a bit confused as Harry turned around, poking her to get her attention.

"I don't know, some of what is in there is quite expensive," a voice said behind her, explaining Harry's behaviour.

A turn revealed that they were in company of the Weasleys. She didn't know the one standing in front of them, wearing a stylish leather jacket and a tooth earring. But the hair definitely put him in camp Weasley, even though it was in a long ponytail that rivalled Ginny's.

"Bill Weasley, and you seem to be Hermione and Harry, right?" he introduced himself, while the adult Weasleys exchanged handshakes, and for some reason, Bill froze a brief moment as he touched Harry's hand. "Interesting eyes, I say," he quipped while giving Harry a curious run-over with his eyes, unable to say anything more before the proverbial unstoppable force made her presence known.

"Harry, my boy!" Molly approached, engulfing Harry in a hug. Harry briefly realized that his new physique made her hugs slightly more comfortable before he was released and it was Hermione's turn to get squashed.

"You have gained quite some muscle, Harry. It almost hurts to squeeze you!" Molly remarked. "And these eyes, I read about them in the papers, but they are quite remarkable from up close. My poor boy, so much trouble this year. I'm so sorry to know that Ron was part of this. George told me all about it – trust me, I'll have some words with him as soon as I get hold of him," she said.

"No problem," Harry replied, trying to leave that topic behind. "Water down the Thames," he told her.

"That's my Harry, always kind," Molly Weasley fawned, not realizing that Harry would just as well throw Ron into the same to watch him drown.

"I think we need to get going," Sirius ran interference. "I was told that the show was to begin not long after the exams were over."

After a brief period of shuffling around to find an arrangement, Harry ended up between Sirius and Hermione, with Sophie next to Sirius and Margret sat with her daughter.

When the Weasleys had taken their sets behind them, Harry turned around to talk to Bill.

"Tonks told us you had a hand in creating this?"

"Huh? You know Tonks?" was the surprised reply.

Hermione smiled as she joined in. "She was charged with watching over us after the kidnapping."

"Makes sense. So she's here?"

"Yes, she's currently down there, watching over the new minister greeting the contestants," Hermione replied, pointing down towards a crowd on front of a gap in the hedge.

Bill squinted his eyes as he checked. "What form is she currently in? Is she that georgeous blonde?"

"No, that's Fleur Delacour," Hermione replied with a frown.

Bill shook his head. "I was told she was a Veela, and that means she's currently talking to the Minister. I know a Veela when I see one. Tonks is five yards behind them."

"Mister Potter?" a Gryffindor firstie approached them. "They need you down there," she squeaked, running off as soon as she had delivered the message.

"Firsties. Young and star-struck, come, I'll walk with you. I need to talk to McGonagall, anyway," Bill proposed.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I'll be back, soon," he told the others.

"No participating, no matter what," Hermione reminded him, firmly.

"Yes, ma'am. If they try to force me, I'll simply sit down in the entrance and twiddle my thumbs till the end."

"Don't think you need to," Bill spoke as he rose. "I bet you Galleons for Knuts that the Minister only wants some photograph for her wall."

_**ooOOoo**_

They were barely at the stairs when Bill started questioning Harry. "How exactly did you get transformed?"

"I beg your pardon?" Harry replied, breaking step for a second.

"Sorry, I meant to ask how you did become a half-dragon?" Bill rephrased.

"I... I... I don't know what you are talking about?" Harry stammered.

"Well, I might have believed that your eyes are just some potions mishap like the paper said, but then you were giving me the creepy crawlies," Bill said as if it would explain anything.

"Ok, more detail, I get it," he said as he realized Harry's empty gaze. "It's the difference between a good and a dead curse breaker. If you are in the presence of a ward or any source of magic, there is a certain magical charge in the air. That usually results in you having a feeling of something crawling over you. This also usually means that you are only inches from a violent death. So, listening to that feeling and immediately stopping whatever you are doing at the moment is something that keeps you alive."

"And since you gave me the crawlies when I touched you, you either have something very magical on you, or you are radiating it, yourself. The last time I felt this way about something living was when I was visiting Charlie. And since your eyes look a lot like these dragon hatchlings. And so, I made a wild, educated guess, and you swallowed it hook, line, and sinker."

"And now?" Harry asked, knowing it made no sense denying it any longer.

Bill laughed softly. "Calm down, I'm not going to tell anyone – I'm cool with it being your secret. Especially since I still owe you big time for saving Ginny. I just wanted to know," he told a quite relived Harry.

Harry wasn't fully convinced of this until Bill handed him over to McGonagall. "I've heard you were longing for this one," Bill joked.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Good to see you again," Professor McGonagall replied without pause. "Now, Mister Potter, please join the other champions," she chased Harry away, before starting to question Bill about his life after Hogwarts.

There was a bit of a scene when Harry joined the others, as each of them went out of their way to greet Harry, Cedric with a firm handshake, and Fleur in her countries customary way, kissing his cheeks. The real confusion set in when Viktor did the same. Harry already knew since their party night that in Bulgaria, good friends greeted that way, but the Hogwarts students, and the officials present, obviously weren't ready for that.

"Hem, hem," a clearing of voice interrupted their hellos, just when Fleur tried to inquire who had escorted Harry down here.

"Now that we are all present," the Minister began, looking much toadier than on her photograph, even though she was wearing a pink cardigan over her robes. She was staring at Harry as if he had let her wait for him with reason. "I would like to congratulate you all to your so far successful contending. The Ministry of Magic is wishing all of you good luck, and may the best wizard win!" she proclaimed.

Harry thought the wording was a bit strange, but didn't say a word as the minister started to shake hands, exchanging a few words. When it was his turn, the Minister noticeably hesitated taking his hand. "I would wish you good luck, as well, but I know that you are no longer participating, Mister Potter."

"It's better that way, I never wanted to take part, anyway," Harry replied neutrally. This neutrality soon evaporated when the Minister faced Fleur.

Harry wouldn't have needed his elevated senses to notice the utter disgust the Minister showed at having to shake Fleur's hand. The cherry on top was that she actually wiped her hand when she walked off after some hollow words. Harry was staring after her in disbelief, only snapping out of it when he heard Fleur murmur something in French. He didn't have to speak it to understand that whatever it meant wasn't all too polite.

"At least I now know vat to report to the Minister after I'm back home," Viktor huffed, before teaching Harry his first Bulgarian words, probably as impolite as Fleur's prior statement.

"I would like to apologize in my country's name," Cedric told Fleur. "This rudeness was uncalled for," he said, with Harry quickly echoing that statement.

"Are you ok?" Cedric asked as he put his hand on Fleur's shoulder.

"Yes. I've had worse, it just came so unexpected," Fleur huffed angrily, glaring after the Minister in the distance.

"She might have done yoh a favour - I pity the first creature yoh run into," Krum joked, successfully defusing the tense mood as everyone began chuckling.

They were broken up only moments later when Bagman appeared, leading the contestants to the maze entrance.

"Come on, show's over, let's get you back to your seat," Tonks approached Harry, Bill in her wake.

"You know, you were right," Harry told Tonks as they got in motion. "She's really an exchanged-letter witch."

Tonks huffed acerbically. "The world would run so much smoother if people'd just accept that I'm always, but yeah, noticed it, too."

"Mister Potter? A word about the Minister?" some guy suddenly called them out. Before Harry had realized that this was the Prophet's replacement for Skeeter, Tonks had already firmly shoved Harry along, muttering, "No comment!".

"You got to memorize that phrase, Harry," Bill joked. "Talking to the press only causes more trouble than you already are in, as you should know by now."

"Tell me about that," Harry muttered as he started climbing the stairs.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Dog and pony show over?" Sophie quipped once Harry came back into view.

"Thankfully. The new Minister will be trouble," Harry growled as he sat down next to Hermione, who immediately wove her fingers into his. "Why?" she asked.

"Bigotted racist pureblood. If it weren't for the public image, she wouldn't even have touched Fleur with a ten foot pole."

"Ugh. I wonder what she'd done if she knew about..." Sophie hinted, while frowning deeply.

"Hey, something's happening!" Margret called out to her friends, pointing at something. Looking ahead, they noticed a big piece of fabric hovering into view in front of them. Wizards stuck it in place once it was resting on the railing. A quick look around revealed that this was repeated every twenty paces or so.

"Oh! They are going to use projectors?" Sophie wondered aloud.

"Pro-what?" Molly Weasley asked from behind them.

"Muggle devices that let you see pictures. It's like..." Hermione was looking for an explanation. "Like a wizard photograph, just displays much longer time spans."

"Really?" Molly gasped in disbelief.

"But they wouldn't work here. Wards like Hogwarts has would disrupt their function," Bill said, watching as two students mounted brooms, and slung a net between them. "But you're really close," he said with a smile.

"What's Colin doing there," Harry called out as the small boy stepped out of the stands and climbed into that net, carrying a box in addition to his camera. The broom riders took flight, just as another frame of fabric, mounted to a table, was brought in.

Squinting, Harry took a closer look. "That box Colin was carrying is connected to that table, right?" he asked Bill.

"Good call," Bill cheered. "Wait for it!" he said as Colin lifted his camera, which seemed much bigger than his normal one. The boy took a picture of the champions, and the camera almost immediately spat out a picture. He dropped it into the box, and immediately snapped another picture. At the table, three wizards got into motion. The first one grabbed the picture, enlarged it and transferred it to the frame in front of him. A fraction of a second, later, the animated picture of the champions chatting was copied to all other frames, while the next wizard picked up the picture Colin had just sent, and repeated the process. The thing resulted in everyone getting something akin to a live video feed, with a second delay and occasional flickers, if the timing was slightly off.

"How do you like it?" Bill crooned. "I based it on a Muggle projector."

"You built a video camera, using wizards?" Sophie gasped, which was answered by an all-teeth grin from Bill.

"To be honest, Colin is always something like a living camera," Hermione said. "How do you transfer the pictures?"

"Protean charm, if you change the master, all satellites are changed to look the same," he replied.

"Hush, some people want to see the show," Tonks hissed from the side.

A less enthusiastic than usual Bagman quickly rattled down his text about the rules before leaving the premises almost in a hurry. Before Harry could think about that too much, Cedric started into the maze. He immediately had to dive under vines shooting out of the, hedges, before turning left. Victor started about 15 seconds later, deciding to go right.

When Fleur started only seconds later, she decided not to run. The crowd cheered as she dispatched the vines with some cutting charm, and then cut a hole into the hedge and decided to go straight.

"I like the way she thinks," Bill muttered as everyone's eyes moved on to the frames. Fleur's luck ran out after the second hedge she cut through. She stumbled into some kind of mist, and suddenly stood ramrod-straight. Colin proceeded to switch targets, which made sense to Harry. People would want to see as much as possible, and freeing yourself from a mist wasn't that interesting to look at. When Colin started snapping pictures, again, he had found Cedric, who seemed to get berated by a girl.

"Isn't that Cho?" Hermione gasped. "How did she get in there? Wait – that isn't her," she exclaimed, "He's almost cowering in fear, and she definitely is in the stands, over there – that's a Boggart, right?"

Harry nodded. It took Cedric long enough to realize this that Sirius could fill Sophie and Margret in. Everybody in the crowd had a good laugh when Cedric turned the Boggart into a yapping Chihuahua, and ran past it.

Margret was gasping for breath while the frames showed the scene over and over again, while the fliers relocated Colin. "If he comes out of this alive, she'll kill him!"

Moments later, the frames showed Viktor burning a dog-sized acromantula to a crisp. As soon as he was done, he was examining his left arm, which showed two huge, bleeding punctures.

"That's bad. Acromantula venom will slow him down and kill him within minutes, if not treated. The only thing he could do is," Bill explained until he got interrupted by a shared sound of disgust by the audience.

"Yeah, that," Bill said as he watched Krum cradling his arm, after he had severely burned his wounds with the charm he just had taken the spider down with. "Hurts like hell, but still better than his arm being pre-digested slowly.

The picture of Krum running on repeated a bit until it changed to to Fleur, who was still standing in that mist. After just a few more seconds of no movement, at all, people started glancing towards the picture-wizards, who still were putting up new pictures. They just all showed the same.

"Why doesn't she move? Is that mist paralysing her?" Sophie posed a question towards Bill.

"Actually, no. The spell should only give the illusion of reversed vertical orientation, she should think she's dangling from earth, with gravity pulling her up in the air. We call it 'Aussie fog'," Bill joked.

"So she's thinking she's falling? You geniuses ever thought she might be afraid of heights?" Margret huffed after a few moments of thought. The flyers were meanwhile giving up, speeding up to relocate Colin, again.

Hermione was the first to follow that train of thought. "She's catatonic! Paralysed with fear!"

"Oh, right. That's a fitting explanation," Bill replied. "Never thought about it that way".

"What are they waiting for? They need get her out of there!" Harry growled as he noticed the teachers only milling around.

"They're not supposed to intervene unless she sends red sparks," Bill remarked. "It's stupid, but it's the rules."

"Does that also apply when a contestant is knocked out? Because that's what she is, for all practical reasons," Hermione asked, Bill perking up as she did so.

"You're right, let me see if I can do something," he spoke out as he stood, coming to Fleur's aid.

"Good luck, oh white knight," Tonks quipped.

"Not coming?"

"Naw, you got that. I've got a great seat, and am supposed to watch out for these guys," Tonks replied, waving Bill good-bye. "And hush, I wan't to see how Krum deals with this oversized pill-bug," she added, grinning even wider when he walked off with a frown.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Ah, there he is! You missed Krum routing that beast with a drilling charm," Tonks called out when Bill returned a couple of minutes later.

"Drats. But good idea. Did I miss anything else?"

"Well, he got singed a bit, but nothing else. Cedric had run into a Sphinx, and had to track back after a few minutes. The riddle was obviously too hard for him, and he chose to find another route instead of fighting it," Sirius filled him in.

"How's Fleur? We briefly saw you pulling her out of that mist," Harry inquired.

"Well, first she cried all over me, then she hit me when I told her that I'd cast that spell, and then we talked. She's a pretty nice girl, if you look past her looks," Bill replied.

"If you look past her looks?" Sophie gasped. "I'd kill to look like her!"

Bill rolled his eyes in mirth. "She's half-Veela. She is supposed to look perfect, and has a magic aura that makes her even more attractive. If a man can't look past that, he'd be reduced to a drooling idiot by her beauty," he laughed.

"That's pretty deep for someone who greeted me with 'this body suits you well'", Tonks replied.

"Well it does, doesn't it? For you, body shapes are like dresses, anyway, so I thought this would be appropriate," Bill defended himself mirthfully, raising his hands in the international gesture of 'no offence meant'.

"So she's fine?" Harry steered the topic away from that looming cliff.

"Yeah, she's with her family, now. I'll know more by tomorrow evening, after we had dinner."

"You are disgusting, preying on her after that," Tonks jumped to conclusions. Molly bristled a bit, but did not say anything. While Harry was still wondering why she didn't rise to defend her son, Bill had already found an answer.

"Seriously, no. We talked a bit and when I mentioned I work for Gringotts, she started drilling for info. Turned out she wants to work for them, and was eager to learn more."

"Working for a bank? I didn't think of her as the banking type," Sophie quipped.

"She isn't. But Gringotts is eager to hire people with Veela heritage. They make very good negotionators," Bill replied with a wink.

"I'm not sure if this is a morally acceptable business behaviour," Margret was winding up for a rant, when suddenly the crowd went wild.

Looking around frantically, the booming voice of Bagman explained what was going on, while Colin took enough pictures that he almost achieved real-time coverage.

"We're in for a photo finish! Krum got there first, but his injuries are slowing him down! Look at the Diggory boy running! He'll make it!" Bagman cheered as he whipped the crowd, especially the Hufflepuff section, into a frenzy.

"And he made it! Diggory is... Gone?"

The crowd slowly skidded to a stop due to the obvious confusion in Bagman's voice, and the pictures of Krum standing there, without a clue. Slowly, even the Hufflepuffs fell silent.

"Didn't they tell Bagman of the portkey on the cup? Great idea to declare the winner. The first one to touch it would be whisked away to the award area," Bill chuckled.

"The cup was a portkey?" Tonks inquired, her voice completely devoid of the mirth it held only moments ago as she had cheered along with her old house.

"Yes! I noticed it when I snuck a peek on its enchantments - I mean, when do you get the chance to see such a rare item," Bill replied.

"We better get down there and tell, seems like Dumbledore surprised himself, this time," Tonks said, pointing at the startled jury.

**AN:**

Embi quickly dove into a doorway to evade the two figures in green walking in her direction. Not noticing her, they walked by, chatting about spines and draw weights and stuff. Holding her breath, and clutching to the bag of food she had looted, Embi waited a few moments before she continued her way to her hideout. Rushing in, she barricaded the door and checked her food stock. It should be enough. She could wait out until these guys were gone again. If she had to, she'd go hungry for a day or two to be sure. The alternative was too gruesome to consider. She simple wouldn't survive falling into their hands and have to endure another drunk rendition of "Men in tights"...

_**ooOOoo**_

Summer archery camp is over, GISHWES is also drawing to an end. I should have more time to write now, but my wife had laser eye surgery (we didn't think she could but she lucked out), so I'll be baby-sitting her for some time, which will undoubtedly cut into my writing time, again.

I'm on it, and have not dropped any of my stories, I'm just lacking time right now...


	22. Not the hero they deserve

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

By DerLaCroix

**Chapter 21: Not the hero they deserve...**

"What's with the racket! I'm coming!" Vernon Dursley's voice hollered from be door, after Harry had pressed the door bell twice. He knew that once would have been enough, but he couldn't resist goading his uncle. For good measure, he rang the bell another time.

"I'm coming! What..." Vernon barked as he pulled the door open. His eyes narrowed as his gaze fell upon the culprit.

"You..." he growled, snapping to attention when the figure behind Harry shifted its position. Subtle, but menacing.

"Who are you?" Vernon asked, trying to be imposing even though he had involuntarily taken a step back when he had seen the man. Something seemed off – the shaggy hair, the wild eyes and the clothes that looked like he slept a couple of times in them. Looming, but silent.

As the had agreed to, earlier, Harry replied in Sirius' stead. "There had been a death at a sports event at school, so school closed a few days earlier. And since it was due to a violent crime, people thought I should have a guard staying with me. Uncle Vernon, meet my godfather," Harry ended with a smile.

It took Vernon a slight moment to decode that information. Being faced with the fact that a mass murderer, a wizard on top, would move in with his family for an undefined time, he reacted like a proper Brit would.

"I wasn't told about that!" He protested, his face slowly losing all colour. Sirius couldn't help but state the obvious.

"Do I look like someone who would care?" he asked in a raspy voice, stepping forward and into the house. Harry felt no need to hide the smile plastered onto his face as Vernon staggered a couple of steps back trying to evade the menacing figure advancing on him. Sirius had done wonders with his look. He had not only imitated his haggard look from Azkaban, he had added a couple of mannerisms he had picked up during video night with Sophie. Of course, she had a collection of horror classics. Harry wasn't surprised to hear that during his stay with them last night.

Meanwhile, Sirius had driven Vernon back into the living room, by simply walking towards him. Harry leisurely strolled after him, trunk in hand. Petunia and Dudley were there, and immediately picked up on the situation. Petunia almost immediately recognized the intruder. Either she had memorized and remembered his face from the news, or she had met and remembered him. Dudley's permanent exposure to television obviously had borne fruit as he did remember the name when Petunia whispered it in horror, and he tried to hide behind his parents as they huddled together.

A few more steps by Sirius, who had done nothing but walking forward, and they were bunched up against the couch. Sirius' whisper of "Sit!" was barely audible, but they were so intimidated that they dropped like stones.

"As I told your husband, I will be living under this roof for a few weeks," Sirius continued softly, aware that the Dursleys were hanging on his every word. "You will probably not see or hear much from us, and we will not take part in your meals. We will have visitors, who are none of your concern. You will not disturb us, and leave us alone. Even though people may think of me as a ruthless killer, I never killed anyone without a cause. I trust in you not giving me any by trying to attack us in our sleep."

"And speaking of trust," he said, slowly drawing his wand and waving it in front of the group, who shrank back into the couch as he did so. "I just made it so that you can't tell anyone about me. And if you do try, I will know. And no matter where you run, I will find you, and I will take my time," he said, smiling as each of them blanched in turn as they realized what he had hinted at. Harry knew they rather should worry more about him than Sirius, but Sirius had convinced him that it was better if they underestimated him as long as possible, no matter how much Harry would like having them scared of him.

He played with the thought of simply taking the contacts Sophie had given him out, exposing his eyes to them, but he was pretty sure fumbling around with them would spoil the effect. He wasn't looking forward to taking them out later, anyway.

"Come Harry," Sirius said. "Let's get our stuff upstairs and settle in," he said, turning around and leaving the Dursleys behind as if they didn't matter. As he walked up the stairs behind Sirius, Harry suddenly realized how much he had changed since he had last been in this house. They really didn't matter, anymore.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry could not think back on a better time at Little Whinging, ever. Sirius had hijacked the guest room at Privet Drive and transformed it into a nice room for both of them to live, by the simple action of pitching a tent like the Weasley's had used at the World cup. They spent their time swapping stories, which meant that Sirius was doing most of the talking, giving Harry almost a minute by minute replay of the Marauders' and his parents' antics. Hermione and Sophie were almost daily visitors, but even that could not make him forget that he was in fact, a prisoner here, for the time being. Knowing that this was only for a few weeks, to charge the wards was alleviating the wait, but it still grated on Harry's nerves that he was not supposed to leave the premises of the house during that time.

Strangely, the times he liked best were when they went out to gather some supplies for the cool box.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Pretty chilly today," Harry remarked as they walked back from the store, both laden down with bags of what men would refer to as food. "I mean, this is Britain, and evening, but even our summers used to be better than this," he joked as he shook his back and shoulders, trying to shake off the chills that ran down his spine.

"What do you expect – this dark alley doesn't get too much sun over a day – it's too dark in here." Sirius replied sulkily. "Hurry up, I guess it'll rain shortly, and my arms are killing me, these bags feel heavier by the minute!"

"Really? You let me carry twice as much as you, and you don't see me complaining," Harry joked with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood. For some reason, it didn't work, as Sirius stared at him with an expression that startled Harry.

Before he could ask, Sirius went through a frightening transformation – gone was the jovial man he had learned to love like a father, replaced by a frightened, confused man. Sirius had dropped his bags, and had drawn his wand, for reasons Harry could not understand. Dropping his own bags, Harry rushed to his side, trying to discern what had startled Sirius, coming up with nothing.

"Sirius? What's wrong?" he asked, realizing the reason the same time he spoke, his breath forming misty clouds in the cold air. Harry whirled around just in time to see a gnarly hand come into view at the corner at the end of the alley.

He was confused. His senses should have warned him of them, shouldn't they? But even now, he could smell nothing. Then it hit him. Absolutely nothing – even the normal smells of a town, the ground, bricks and mortar work in various stages of decay, it was all muted. Even sound was dampened by the cold the creature emanated. All in all, these things were almost invisible to him until they stood almost in front of him!

Harry was so shocked and occupied with that realization that he wasted valuable time. Only after the dementor had slipped around the corner and had floated closer, starting to actually affect him, Sirius' patronus charm slammed into it.

It wasn't a perfect spell, more a blob of light that rushed at the dark, hooded shape of the dementor, but it was enough to drive the creature off, and give Harry some relief.

Harry was expecting some harsh words for getting lost in thought at such a crucial moment. "Sorry, I zoned out for a moment. Too startled to react. Thanks for having my back," he tried to stave off the bollocking he would truly deserve. "What on earth is a dementor doing in Little Whinging, of all places," he posed the question, waiting in vain for an answer.

Harry only realized the second dementor when he turned around. The creature had been following them, and been further away for that reason, but by the time they had dispatched the first one, it had halved the distance between the alley corner and them, getting extremely close to Sirius. Close enough to turn him into a moaning wreck of despair.

Harry wasted no time in blasting the wraith with his own patronus charm, which was also little more than a white blob, but the damage was done. Sirius was down.

Harry wasn't taking any chances – they were too exposed out here in the open, and the senses he had grown to rely on were useless against this threat. He picked up Sirius, taking care to pocket the man's wand before doing so, and ran.

_**ooOOoo**_

Vernon Dursley was having a nice cup of tea in front of the telly, listening to his wife prattling on and on about neighbours, and the state of the garden. His son was sitting nearby, waiting for the news to end, so he could reclaim ownership of the remote and watch whatever horrid program he'd choose, as every evening. Vernon didn't mind. This was normal. Perfectly normal. It was normal enough that he could almost forget the fact that there were is freak nephew and his lunatic murderer godfather holed up in the guest room. Almost.

Vernon sighed at the sudden invasion of this abnormality in his otherwise so perfectly normal life, and took an extra sip of tea to ease his nerves.

Petunia was informing him about the Merryweathers' normality-upsetting plans to apply for a gardening contest and were redecorating their garden shed, when a horrendous crash in the hallway destroyed the precious little bit of normality that was left in his evening.

Vernon's veins were already struggling with containing his blood pressure when he noticed that the door had been kicked in instead of being opened properly, by none other than his freak nephew.

When he noticed that said nephew was carrying the almost unconscious murderer in his arms, hearing the explanation for said state, Vernon made a decision.

_**ooOOoo**_

"We're inside," Harry told the barely conscious man in his arms. Only his refined ears allowed him to hear the barely audible demand of chocolate. Pushing the remains of the door closed with his foot, he made a mental notice to have it repaired, later. Even before turning around, he was aware that uncle Vernon had arrived.

His uncle was staring at the wood splinters on the floor, his gaze travelling over toward the ruined door frame. Harry was fully aware that his uncle was upset, rightly so, and expecting him to yell at him.

"I'm sorry for the door, I'll repair it later," he tried to explain, "But Sirius was attacked and is badly hurt, he needs help, urgently!"

The reaction was not what he had hoped for. Vernon launched his fist at him. Instinctively, Harry evaded the punch, but a rapping noise and a sharp moan reminded him of the burden in his arms. The movement had bumped Sirius' head into the wall. Harry pretty much realized that he was trapped, with no means to escape the next punch currently approaching his face.

Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction as he turned his head and leaned into the punch, on purpose. The sensation of the fist impacting on his forehead was less than pleasant, but the roar his uncle produced was satisfying. Harry couldn't hear bones breaking, but by the way Vernon cradled his wrist, he was pretty sure that it was at least sprained. He could feel the bruise forming on his head, but it was tolerable.

The meanwhile present rest of the Dursley family didn't think so. Petunia, of course, was screeching about her husband, that was to be expected. Dudley dropping into a fighting stance and starting jabbing at Harry was not.

He could evade two of them by tilting his head, but the following haymaker forced him to give up the room he claimed back from Vernon, again placing him with his back to the door. With a grin, Dudley used Harry's predicament and launched a strike at Sirius' face.

His maw fell wide open when Harry used the first option that occurred to him. He simply chucked Sirius in the air. Dudley's punch passed far off target as Sirius arced up and down again. Harry effortlessly caught him, and then took a step forward at the still gaping Dudley, coming up face to face.

His eyes now narrow slits of anger, Harry threw his head forward.

Petunia's screams doubled in intensity as Dudley dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut. Harry ignored her as he stepped over his cousin and headed for the kitchen.

_**ooOOoo**_

"There's no chocolate," Harry gasped after scouring the pantry.

"Is there ham in the fridge?" Sirius croaked from his chair.

"Yes," Harry said after a short search, showing a sealed package to Sirius.

"Good, now open it and throw the contents to the floor."

Harry was confused, but did as he was told. He watched as Sirius slowly changed into Snuffles, who crawled over and devoured it, his tongue lollying with joy after the act. Within moments, he was back to human form and looked much better. "Ham works for dogs like chocolate for humans," he told Harry with a wink, before looking strangely at him.

"What happened to you? You've got a bruise on your face and are missing a contact lens. I can't remember too well."

Harry had barely started to explain when a ministry owl carrying a letter swooped in.

***A beach at the black sea, near Varna, Bulgaria ***

Viktor was rolling in the warm sand, buckling with laughter, drawing mild attention from the other people around them. "He really asked yoh that?" He roared.

"Ministry workers aren't hired for brains, Viktor, but asking me if I was sure it really was a dementor was... Special..." Sirius replied.

"It was less funny if you consider that by the time we got there, they had already scheduled a court hearing, before even investigating why someone would cast a patronus spell," Hermione couldn't keep herself from butting in. She only heard about all this after it was well over, but it still bothered her.

"Not just someone, the Minister herself," Sirius corrected her.

Viktor sobered a bit when he heard that. "The Minister herself? Why would she even know about that, only a few minutes after the fact. Come to think of it, that owl vos arriving too fast, as vell – it would not have made that distance in time. Sounds like a trap to me, but why?"

"Well, I did ignore the Minister's invitation to tell the press that she really wasn't behaving rudely at the tournament," Harry came up after a short pause. "But would the Minister really try to kill at least two people for me refusing to lie for her? I can't believe that."

"Yeah, she did have a rough start, a diplomatic blunder and a murder on her first official appearance," Sirius admitted, "But then, she hasn't really made any good news, or friends, since."

Harry knew that this was the greatest understatement, ever. On an educated guess by Madame Bones, Aurors had been sent to Little Hangleton, where the cup was found at the graveyard, with signs of a struggle around it. Cedric's body was never found, though. The Minister had started a public campaign telling people that all was right, but she wasn't the kind of person people believed. Especially as the first reports of attacks on Muggles became public, and some dark marks were seen.

Her attempts to blame non-humans and and restrict their rights in the wake of events, while they barely passed the Wizengamot, were seen as the thin attempt to "do something" they were by the public.

"It shouldn't need a genius to realize that slighting a part-Veela at a public event and later demanding all non-humans need to register their residence at the ministry would look petty," Hermione summed his thoughts up in her words.

"And did she do it, I mean vosn't there an investigation?"

Harry and Sirius made an identical snort at Viktor's comment.

"Nobody watches the dementors. The people in charge of them reckon that anybody going to that island knows what he's doing, and as long as there aren't any reports of dementors roaming the coast, nobody cares what they do, as long as the Askaban personnel reports in that they behave as ordered," Sirius explained.

"The guards usually stay in their quarters, and trust the cell doors to suffice to not let the dementors kiss a victim. It usually works, but there are occasional "natural deaths" due to someone being too close to the door, getting kissed and subsequently starving," he explained, his mood sinking quickly. Sophie left her recliner to sit next to him, trying to give him the support he needed.

"They don't patrol the island, they even do not bother to watch their docks or the coast, that's how I could escape relatively unbothered once I made it out of my cell and the fortress," he concluded with a sigh. "As I know now, after these investigations, they don't even have records of visitors, unless they enter the fortress. The current theory is that someone came to the island and kidnapped two dementors wandering around."

"Madam Bones apologized personally and promised to tighten security there," Harry told their unbelieving audience. "In her words, just about anybody able to cast a patronus could walk up to that prison, and the guards would only know after they're inside..."

"That's insane, our prison is on a bare mountain top, just like Durmstrang, only that it is on the eastern side of the country, and in a dragon reserve," Victor replied with a shake of his head. "We had a couple of attempts at breaking out, but most were knocking on the door a couple of hours later, begging to be let in, again," Viktor managed to turn the mood back around.

"I wonder if that reserve is the same Charlie works at," Harry said.

"Maybe we should visit, to find out," Sophie remarked with an innocent smile.

"Hmm. Why not - Tonks told us we should give him her best of we meet her old year mate."

Viktor gave Harry a strange look. "And here I thought yoh would not vant to see another dragon, ever, again."

"Actually, I, for one, think they are fascinating," Hermione said as she gave Harry a peck on the cheek. Viktor didn't notice how most others rolled their eyes at that comment, or he just didn't comment on it.

"Actually, I would not be averse if we manage to fit such a visit into our schedule, either," Henry spoke up from his recliner.

"Fit it in? Fit it in? I'd schedule a whole holiday around the chance to see a dragon!" Sophie let her priorities be known. Sirius flinched at the volume she chose to do so.

"Hush, woman! There are Muggles who could hear you on this beach!"

"I wouldn't bother about that. Most of them can't speak English, and Bulgarians are fascinated with Dragons. Varna is riddled with statues of Saint George and dragons. I swear, one day they will make one of just a dragon, somewhere," Viktor waved his concerns off.

"I guess we could fit a visit in, if we cut one of the beach days – I'll ask papa when we are at home, in Strandscha," Viktor replied. "If yor back allows it, Harry," he added.

Harry frowned slightly. While everyone else was soaking up the sun in swimsuits – which suited Hermione very well, he thought – he was sulking around in shorts and shirt.

"Any idea vot's wrong with it? We could have one of our team's healers look at it. They are quite good with back injuries."

"The skin is all grey and raw and wrinkled, and something is wrong with my shoulders, blocking their range of motion. Hurts moving them, it pulls on the skin. And beyond a certain point it gets even worse – as if bone were rubbing on bone, and same thing for bending my back. It feels as if I had a broomstick tied to my back," Harry described his state to a sympathetically nodding Victor.

"Sophie has made some x-rays, but it's not clear to see what's wrong, the pictures aren't really showing anything but that there is a mess of bones," Harry explained as good as he could. His skin was diffusing the rays too badly to see much more than faint outlines, but they were pretty sure his shoulder blades and what looks like part of his spine were malformed, and had already discussed if they shouldn't vanish the bones and use skele-gro to fix them. A quite heated discussion, considering they were talking about vanishing part of his spine.

"Would it help if I bought you one of these vibrating magnet thingamabobs, as well?" Sirius absent-mindedly asked Sophie, who looked at him in amused confusion. "A what?"

"This better x-ray, you know, the one you talked about, with the tube you get into," Sirius tried to explain.

Sophie was working on her carp-impersonating skills by the time he had finished stammering. As were the Grangers. Only Harry and Victor had no idea what he was talking about, still.

Finally, Sophie regained enough facial control to clear her throat and reply. "Are you trying to find out what it takes for me to shag you right here and now, on this beach?"

Margret reacted almost instinctively. "Sophie!"

"What? That... That..." she struggled for words, "MAN! Just offered to buy me a MRI!"

"I don't care if he offered you a shipload of barrels stuffed with kittens, watch your tongue in front of the kids!"

"But that's so much better than kittens – I've dreamt about even touching such a device!" Sophie tried to reason with Margret, whose only reply was an even sterner look, until Sophie shrugged and turned back to talk to Sirius.

"Are you sure? You would buy me one?" Sophie asked, almost timidly, which made Sirius frown.

"Would it help finding out what's wrong with Harry?"

"Of course – we would be able to see exactly what's going on inside of him!" Sophie claimed, almost offended that he would doubt the power of big sciency machinery.

"Can you even operate one, Sophie? I mean, they are quite complex, I heard," Margret carefully tried to rein her friend in. "And they cost a fortune!"

"I've read up about them, and they do come with a manual," Sophie replied with a huff. "And I'd hire someone to operate it if I get one for my lab. I would have, anyway, just for the x-ray alone! Hmm, maybe I can get the lease for the other half of the building, so I don't have to resize the lab..." she spoke, zoning out while she started planning.

Sirius snapped his finger in front of her face to get her attention. "Hello? Could I get you to focus on the here and now? Margret had brought up an interesting point, precisely, an alleged price tag measured in fortunes."

Sophie did hem and haw a bit before she replied. "Now I feel like a gold- digger. Maybe it's not a good idea. You did buy me that x-ray, already, and that wasn't cheap, either."

"Sweet Merlin, woman! Stop jabbering! I told you that it was for Harry, you just got to keep it after we're done with it. I don't care about money if it is spent to help him, and this money will be yours, too, soon," Sirius ranted away, only realizing what he had said after everybody had perked up at his words.

"Is that a proposal?" Sophie asked coyly, while the other sat up a bit straighter at the unexpected turn this talk had taken, with Sirius stammering for his life.

"No, well, maybe, I mean... If you... Would you..."

"Of course I will," Sophie cried out with a brilliant laugh, as she bowled Sirius over in an attempt to kiss him senseless, accompanied by the cheers and laughter of the others.

"Now that's a proposal to Sophie's liking – no ring, but a million pounds of medical equipment, instead," Margret laughed.

Sirius' head shot up as she said that. "A million? That thing costs a million in Muggle money?"

"Yes, thereabouts," Sophie mewled. "I'd totally understand if that's too much," she moped, which caused Sirius to break out in laughter.

"Thank Merlin, you had me thinking it would be really expensive!"

Sophie was stunned. "But... It is... Wait – how well off are you, actually?"

Sirius winked at her in reply. "Are we, honey, are we... And frankly, I don't know, but it is said that my vault is big enough for me to wipe my butt with gold for the rest of my life, and it wouldn't make a dent in it."

"But isn't Harry the rich one?" Sophie tried to get things straight.

"Didn't you listen when we called the Black fortune 'legendary'?" Hermione asked her back. "Harry is one of the top percentile once he turns seventeen, but Sirius is Scrooge McDuck. Estimates are that he owns majorities in about half of the wizarding companies, and has extensive holdings in natural resources, worldwide, especially gold and precious stone mining."

Viktor was having different thoughts, right now, and was very enthusiastic to voice them. "Congratulations, yoh two! We'll have to celebrate this – let me call my parents, they will want to make a bigger dinner tonight, worthy of dis occasion!" he called out, starting to dig into his backpack, pulling his wallet out. "Stay here, I'll be back shortly, there must be a phone box nearby," he said as he stood and walked off, leaving the others to celebrate amongst themselves. Not a minute later, Sirius had a laughing and squirming Sophie over his shoulder, racing to dump her into the sea, everyone else in hot pursuit.

_**ooOOoo**_

Viktor's parents were glorious hosts, and the celebration certainly lived up to the occasion. Everyone had a glorious time, and Harry ended up with the Krums and Sirius, who were exchanging hilarious stories about their school time, or in Victor's case, stories of Quidditch players and games. Victor or Branco, his father were always taking care to translate for Rodica, Victor's mother, who barely spoke a word English. The Grangers and Sophie had left them to unpack their luggage and "freshen up", which everybody else understood as the polite excuse it was. Harry also felt like he would burst if he ate one more bite, but he was fine.

About half an hour into their chat, Rodica asked her son a question in Bulgarian that made Victor look up. "Mother told me that we maybe should help the Grangers, they are gone far too long, in her opinion," he translated.

"No problem, I'll check on them. I need to stretch my legs, anyway," Harry replied as he stood.

It didn't take him long to find Hermione and Sophie upstairs, deep in conversation about magical marriage customs. He missed a step when he realized Hermione had already read up on that topic, but managed to school his face as he knocked.

"Hey you two chatterboxes," he laughed as he entered after their call. "Don't you think it's time to rejoin us down there? Our hosts are concerned about you staying away."

"Oh my god, have we been away for so long? I completely missed the time go by," Sophie gasped as a bell rang in the distance, checking her watch. "My watch seems off, the chimes don't match it."

"Who knows," Harry replied. "Let's grab Margret and Henry and head downstairs."

"Can't. They decided to go for a moonlight stroll in the town, they left a few minutes ago."

Harry shrugged. "Can't be helped, then. Let's go."

Five minutes later, they entered the living room, again. For some reason, the Krums seemed to be agitated, almost afraid. "Ah, my long lost fiancée," Sirius joked. "Where did you leave the Grangers? Still unpacking?"

"No, they went for a walk," Harry replied, immediately picking up how the Krums panicked, especially after Branco translated for Rodica, who started to wail in Bulgarian.

"We must find them, quickly!" Victor called out as he jumped up.

"What? Why?" Harry asked, but already instinctively tensing for a fight. He knew they were in danger, but he needed to know what to look out for.

"The bells, they were a warning! It's full moon, and werewolves are approaching the town!"

Victor had barely spoken as Harry started running, leaving a broken living room door behind as he had ripped it open with more force than he should.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry knew the others would be behind him as he ran. Bushes and trees rushed by as pale shadows as he sped by, only stopping once, briefly, to try and discern which path the Grangers had taken. A few steps in one direction told him he was wrong, as the familiar smell of Margret's perfume got weaker. Once he had found that the smell had indeed gotten stronger on the other path, he sped up again, ignoring the pain in his back as he threw every precaution in the wind.

He was almost in the small townlet at the end of the manor's walkway, when he suddenly heard a female scream. Adrenaline rushed into his veins as he recognized the voice.

An incredible pain tore trough his back, feeling as if his skin was ripped to shreds as he increased his speed beyond of what his body had told him to be barely safe. He screamed in pain, but at the same time, his speed had more than doubled within moments, and was still increasing. Sprinting in huge leaps, Harry could see the Grangers, through a pink haze as rage clouded his mind.

Henry was trying to shield Margret with his body and the lantern, but that was merely a token gesture, as they were standing in the middle of the town square, their backs against a bucket and chain fountain with a small roof. Some torches were burning at the edges of the roof, and Margret was currently trying to break one of those free, with no success.

Five huge creatures were surrounding them, forming a loose half circle as they snarled at them, baring huge canines. The bit of fire the lamp contained was barely holding them back for the moment, but it was only a matter of moments until one of them would pounce.

Before he could think, Harry had already taken a huge leap, crossing the more than thirty yards that had been between him and the pack. He raised his hand and cast a cutting curse at the back of the one wolf closest to the Grangers, making the beast howl in pain and whirl around at it's attacker.

Before the others could react, Harry had already descended upon that wolf, taking it with him to the ground. The moment he landed, his fists crushing its snout into a bloody pulp with a few hits, knocking it out.

Many people are astounded when they hear about Harry's ability to think on his feet during a fight. What they don't know is that Harry's childhood prepared him very well for hostile encounters, especially the kind where he was surrounded and outnumbered. Normally, his knowledge would be applied to create confusion and slip away, but this wasn't 'normal' Harry, anymore.

Realizing he had three opponents to his right and one to his left, Harry dug his finger into his first target's pelt, and threw the beast at the bigger group.

Doing so, a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder as something tugged on it. Harry's turn was stopped, and his throw wasn't as powerful as he had planned. He had no time to watch, missing that he had bowled two werewolves over and made the third one leap away a few yards. He spun back towards his intended target, his fist violently disturbing thin air.

Confused about the whereabouts of his attacker, Harry noticed that his target was lying on the ground, shaking its head. A blink of an eye later, it jumped up in order to attack him. Harry managed to sidestep the charge, sucker punching the wolf as it rushed by. A couple of penalty kicks to the head made sure that this wolf would not stand up again.

_**ooOOoo**_

Sirius was only taking a few steps out of the house in his human form. "I'll run ahead, too. Follow us," he shouted, already falling forward as he triggered the transformation.

To his enhanced canine senses, Harry's trace was easy to follow, as was the Grangers'. He could see much better at low light, which was not helpful during full moon, especially since everything was blurry, as well. Still, his sense of smell was much keener. He only briefly slowed down at the point where the path split in two, and picked up his pace again after finding the right route. That was when he heard the scream. Female, and in panic. Far too similar to Margret's voice. Speeding up, he reached the town by the time a blurry silhouette, probably Harry, threw a werewolf into a group of werewolves, missing one of them. The fast blur then jumped at a single opponent, missing that his projectile had failed to take the whole group out of action.

While, behind Harry, two of his other adversaries were still busy untangling themselves from their fallen pack mate, the last one had managed to shake off his confusion and advanced to attack.

Sirius made sure it didn't get far. Ignoring a pop somewhere behind him, he snarled as he sprinted across the open square and charged it. His tackle bowled both of them over, rolling with the blow as they came back on their feet. He was howling and snarling as both were biting and clawing at each other, jumping back at each swipe of the werewolf, only to attack again.

By the time Harry was turning to react to the noise, he was already in deep trouble. He could hold his own against Remus with James' help, but alone, the outcome of that fight was a foregone conclusion. Especially as the other ones were almost back on their feet. All he could do to help was lure his opponent away from the Grangers and Harry, buying them time. The moment he made up this plan was the same moment the werewolf managed to grab him and threw him down hard enough to make the world go dark.

_**ooOOoo**_

Henry was terrified. He knew about werewolves, in theory, but having five of these monsters in front of him hammered the truth home. They were way up higher than him on the food chain, and all he could do to protect his wife and himself from them was to swing the lamp before him. Margret was trying to get a fire of her own off that fountain, but it was stuck.

He was pretty much sure that this was their last stroll on this earth when a huge shadow appeared out of nowhere, slamming into the beast right in front of them. A few punches later, the werewolf was down, and he briefly realized that it was Harry who had come to their aid. His brain went into a dazed stupor when Harry flung that beast away like a rag doll, lunging for the next, already. The same time, a huge dog appeared, slamming into the sole still standing werewolf that hadn't been hit by the werewolf Harry had used as a missile.

The fight was short, as the dog was no real contender against the huge beast. Only a few moments after the charge, the werewolf had shaken off the surprise and fought back for real. A few seconds later, a loud yelp was heard as the dog was knocked over. His wife's call of "Sirius!" solved the puzzle about the dog's business in this fight. Pressed with the urgent need to do something, he used his only weapon available. Stepping forward, he smashed his oil lamp into the beast's back.

He was delighted when the oil spilled all over its back, and almost immediately caught fire. He wasn't too fond of the thing's flailing arms smacking him in the chest, throwing him back into his wife. Dazed and hurting, he was helpless, not even able to look up when he heard a loud noise.

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry had just disposed of his current foe when he realized that Sirius had joined the fray, and had bitten off more than he could chew. He was already moving forward to prevent further injury when Henry set the wolf on fire, earning himself a punch for his efforts. He once more ignored the pain in his shoulder as he jumped forward, shoving the howling wolf on fire off its path to finish Henry off. Another shove sent the living torch tumbling into the still untangling pack, taking the one that had freed itself back to the ground.

Positioning himself right over his fallen next best thing to parents Harry inhaled deeply, and roared his anger at the burning wolf, feeling the distinctive pop as his fuel glands opened. The liquid sprayed forth at the mass of limbs, and ignited with a loud 'whoosh' when it came in contact with the flames already present.

Intensifying to a jet of bright yellow and blue, his spray caught completely on fire. Harry immediately directed the fire across all targets, causing the wolves to howl in a cacophony of pain as he scorched their flesh. One wolf had been partly shielded by the already burning pack mate, and the pain made him lose all restraints he might have had. Its claws left deep gauges on his fellow wolf as it wrenched itself free with brutal force and ran. Harry made sure to cauterize them as the second wolf managed to run off too, trailing a cloud of smoke as it headed for the woods, right into the Krums, who knocked it out with a pair of silvery spells.

Harry didn't notice. He kept his fire on the two remaining wolves until he was sure they stopped moving. Remembered the last attempt, Harry tried simply letting his roar die down slowly to cut the flame, and managed to close his sacks before stopping to exhale. Panting, he settled in a protective stance, watching out for further foes.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione and the Krums had followed the huge track Sirius and Harry had produced as well as they could. The light of three wands was more than enough to follow it, but they were lacking the speed of them. When they reached a point where the path split in two, Branco barked something at his son, and disappeared with a pop, his wife vanishing only a blink of an eye later. Victor grabbed her hand, and before she could react, she was experiencing the sensation of being sucked through a garden hose, as he apparated her to some place.

Upon landing, Victor ran off, and she followed on his heels, both arriving at the town to see a scene of total confusion. There wasn't much light, but she could see something fighting in the middle of the town square in front of her, snarling loud. She heard a pained yelp as one beast threw what seemed to be Snuffles to the ground, and suddenly, that wolf was in flames, somehow.

She screeched as she saw that burning werewolf punch her father, who tumbled into her mother and pulled her with him to the ground. She started running, trying to get close enough to cast spells, when a dark blob smashed into that werewolf, pushing it into two more, preventing it from doing more harm.

Then she heard a familiar roar. A fraction of a second later, she came to a skidding stop when the werewolf was engulfed in a blue and orange flame lancing at him. The jet of fire extended five or six yards as it travelled across the three wolves. Two of them ran off as the flame scorched across them, but the one hit first collapsed in a burning heap.

Moments later, the flame died down, but the origin was now easy to see in the flickering light of the burning corpses. Harry was cowering over her unconscious parents, his greyish- black wings protectively covering them from all harm, the left one hanging distinctly limp.

She was still trying to come to grips with the scene when she heard Victor whispering in awe, right next to her.

"Draculea!"

_**ooOOoo**_

AN:

Hello everybody. As predicted, my life was pretty busy. My wife couldn't work for a couple of weeks because of the eye surgery, and so I had to do all the work by myself. On the other hand, the corrective surgery worked perfectly, and she now has 20/20 eyesight, instead of 11 dioptres. (Yes, eleven – I sometimes use her glasses to simulate the effects of drugs. The world looks crazy through these things.)

Also, I was busy digging foundations for a new stable under construction, and I finally won the lawsuit against the parish, so the land is finally and forever mine...

Writing took a bit of a back seat, and I apologize for the delay. Have fun!


	23. But the one who deserves it?

Disclaimer: My house belongs to the bank, my work belongs to my boss and my money is always confiscated by my wife. And Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Damn...

**Cold Blood**

**By DerLaCroix**

**Chapter 22: But the one who deserves it?**

Hermione was still staring at Harry's new features when she remembered her parents being hurt.

"Mom! Dad!" she yelled as she stormed ahead, towards Harry. He reacted slightly startled, but quickly recognized her, giving up his protective position to let her approach her parents. Stepping aside, he watched Viktor kneeling down next to Sirius, waving his wand over the huge dog, looking puzzled. Harry could see and hear the dog breathe, indicating it was still alive. He would have liked to help, but he was still running on adrenaline, watching out for more attackers, feeling the blood hammer in his temples. He wasn't really able to think coherently, but still knew somehow that his healing skills were spotty, at best, and of no use here. Viktor had meanwhile called out for his parents, who rushed towards their son.

Their sudden movement startled Harry into turning towards them, causing his injured wing to briefly catch on the structure of the well. Harry almost dropped to his knees when the pain rushed through him, and only gripping the low wall for support kept him upright. Moaning, he reached for the source of the pain in his back, only to quickly let go of the wing's root when he briefly got hold of it. A few looks left and right later, he had a picture of what was going on.

"Bugger," he gasped.

"Well, that can wait," he added as an afterthought when he noticed some people approaching the town square, all in green robes and red hoods, trying to assume a fighting stance of some sort. Viktor's father was already approaching the new arrivals with his hands raised high, talking a mile a minute.

"Probably Aurors," Hermione voiced her assumptions about the men listening to Branco and staring at Harry and the carnage.

"I guess," Harry wheezed, feeling more and more exhausted as the adrenaline driving him left his system. "They seem to be mistaking me for a vampire, though, as far as I think I understand."

"Viktor had the same reflex. I caught him calling you Dracula when he saw your wings," Hermione replied from his side. "If only they would get on with the talking and start helping!" she cussed while trying to mend a cut on her dad's arm.

"How are they?" he answered with a question, his breath ragged as he leaned heavily on the well's low wall, patting himself down carefully to check for further injuries.

"Alive, breathing, dad's bleeding," she replied with a sigh. "The diagnostic spell shows something is wrong with his side. I'm pretty sure it shows broken bones, but there's so much more, and I can't read it properly," she whined.

"Will he live five more minutes for them to start helping?" Harry suddenly asked, in a quite tense way that made Hermione stop and stare at him.

"Yes, it's not that bad," Hermione replied, a bit miffed at the way he had worded his question. "I almost can't believe you all made it. You were great."

"Not that good," he said in almost a whisper while slowly slipping to his knees, against the wall, cradling his chest. "I'm afraid they got me," he wheezed, extending his shaking, bloody hand for her to see.

With a cry of his name, Hermione was at his side, almost stumbling over his now limp wing. Harry didn't hear nor feel it, anymore, as he slumped down, unconscious.

_**ooOOoo**_

Funnily, the sense of smell worked best of all his senses when Harry woke up. Especially since his transformation, but it had always been that way. Ron always lamented that his nose was all clogged up after sleeping, but Harry never had that problem. His hearing, on the other hand, was almost always muffled like he had rubber plugs in his ears right after he woke up, but would clear up in a few seconds, or after popping them with his jaw. Opening his eyes was always a painful chore, even when he wasn't waking up in a hospital, like he assumed he was, right now.

Choosing to postpone that particular, but painful, task, Harry started his usual post-combat check. He'd already noticed that the air smelled like potions - hospital bed, no surprise. It was not quite as strong a scent of disinfectant, more like a normal room that had been scrubbed thoroughly, like Aunt Petunia sometimes did - probably his room at the Krums' house. Smell of blood, very close by. Harry went with the theory that this was directly connected to the dull pain in his belly, and the feeling of a bandage wrapped around him.

A faint whiff of peach - Hermione? The smell of potions and blood right in front of him made it hard to sort the other smells out. He also started to feel dizzy from trying to focus on it.

Still, there was another dull pain in his back, where his wing grew out. The thought made him snort with suppressed laughter. He could hear someone rising from a chair when he did so.

"Wakey wakey," Hermione whispered near his ear. "You must be the only one to beat up five werewolves and wakes up laughing," she spoke, trying to sound mirthful, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Harry had to clear his throat twice to reply. "Now that's something to wake up to," he chuckled, making a few painful blinks. It was awfully bright in the room.

"If it weren't for us in the room, you would be waking to much more, I guess," Sirius spoke up from further away, followed by a slapping sound. Sophie seemed to be present, as well.

Harry could almost hear Hermione's eyes rolling.

A few light footsteps later, he felt some different lips brushing against his cheek. Now his eyes were wide open.

"Thank you for saving three of the most important people in my life. You really are a great young man, never forget that. And if I knew it wasn't just out of a sense of obligation," Sophie said with an undertone that made him realize she wasn't talking to him, "I would be ok with any reward you receive."

Now Harry was sure he could hear Hermione's eyes rolling.

"I just did what I had to," Harry protested, "Anyone would have done the same, it's nothing."

Sophie giggled softly in reply. "Never change, Harry, never change," she said, softly brushing his hair out of his face, bending over and kissing his forehead before she stepped back from his bed.

"Would you mind stopping kissing other men? At least in my presence?" Sirius heckled from his place in a chair across the room. Harry briefly wondered if Sirius managed to get away unscathed until he noticed the walking cane leaning against his leg.

"Honey, that man saved three lives I value higher than my own. If it wasn't for the fact that one of those was my soon-to-be husband who believed he could wrestle a werewolf that wasn't his friend, I would be administering any reward due," Sophie shut him down with extreme prejudice.

"Sorry, kids, you got caught in that blast, as well," Sophie said sheepishly when she realized what she had just said. "Bad taste to bring that line in front of you."

"Don't worry, the look on his face was worth it," Hermione replied with a grin. Sirius' expression changed from 'Christmas is cancelled' to 'bloody traitor' when his gaze found her in reply. Hermione just grinned wider at him before her own gaze found Sophie. "But that topic is done with, yes?" she said in a suddenly very cold tone.

"Got it. Sorry."

"Good idea. How is anyone? And what time is it?" Harry spoke up, trying to get clear of that topic, as well.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Mum and dad are fine, in a non-Harry sense. Mum had banged her head pretty badly, and is mostly sleeping off her concussion under a potion. Takes a bit longer for Muggles, but she should be fine in a couple of days," she explained, stroking Harry's shoulder as she spoke.

"Dad got lucky, he was hit with a mostly backhand strike that only broke his ribs," she said, raising her hands and moving her fingers to make imaginary quote marks when she said 'only'. "He has a couple of minor scratches, though," she said, quite sadly.

"He'll live with that, if it comes to the worst,I guess," Harry replied, sighing deeply as he reached out for her. He promptly had to take a sharp breath when his chest twinged because of that, but shook it off, ignoring his state. "And you, Sirius?"

"I won't be dancing for a while," was the reply from the again grinning man. "Broke my hip on my forced landing. Got to keep my weight off my right leg for a few weeks to let things get back in order."

"That's strange. Maybe we should get some of our own healers? They didn't patch me up too well, neither," Harry laughed dryly, but everyone else just shook their heads.

"You're wrong on all counts, son. Those Aurors turned me back to use their first aid on me, but that shifted the bones and made things worse for the healers to sort out when they arrived. I'm not angry at them, I had serious internal bleeding that they needed to care to, but didn't know where things were on a dog. You are a different kind of cake," Sirius explained.

Harry's brow furrowed in reply to these news. "Great. So, what is wrong with me, now? Apart from the obvious," he said, pointing his right thumb at the wing hanging out of his sheets. "Wait a moment," he said, looking up and down the appendage that reached from the headboard to almost down to his feet. "Is it just me, or is it bigger than it was last night. I mean, I was only out for a night, right?"

"You see, son, that's the thing," Sirius replied carefully. "It's been a year..."

_**ooOOoo**_

Harry stared at Sirius like the man had just grown a second head. "But, but," he stammered as he tried to get to grips with what he just heard. "You just said you'll be ok soon, and the Grangers…" he stammered, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"You are despicable," Sophie suddenly hissed in Sirius' direction. "How could you tell him such a thing, now? We agreed to make up stories, for now, and then easing him into it! I wanted him to get used to the things that changed during his come before he learns his father is crippled for life!" She spoke, softly caressing Harry's shoulder while she scolded her fiancé. Or husband? Harry wasn't sure, anymore. His head felt fuzzy, and in his confusion, he turned to his best chance to hear the truth. And that he did...

"Aunt Sophie!" Hermione cried indignantly, her eyes so wide they almost bulged out of the sockets. "Harry, don't listen to them! It's just the morning after!" she hastily tried to reassure Harry, instantly getting back to shouting at Aunt Sophie.

"I can't believe you're doing that to him," she screeched at Sophie. "For him, it's par for the course," she vented her anger while pointing at Sirius, "but you, as well?"

"Oh come on," Sophie laughed, while Sirius only grinned proud like a dog that actually caught the car, "that was perfect - when would one get the chance to bring this joke, again!"

"Given his life so far, next Tuesday!" Hermione spoke with a huff, shaking her head and murmuring about her doubt on some people's sanity, while she turned her attention back on Harry, who still was looking confused. "They just pulled your leg, it's ok, it's really just been a few hours, half a day, tops," she said, kissing his cheek over and over again, stroking his hair. "How could you!" she hissed at Sophie, again.

"Harry, tell her it was funny!" Sophie tried to defend herself.

"Not quite for me, but that's how these jokes work, I guess," Harry replied, letting his head fall back into the pillows. "Would just have been my luck to have that item tacked off my list, too," he said with a shrug.

"That's my boy - stiff upper lip and all," Sirius said with a proud smile. "Anyway, they couldn't do too much for you. You soaked up all healing spells they tried, but all it did was making your wings grow, it seemed. They noticed after an hour of work," he grinned.

"After that, they simply popped your wing joint back in place, filled you up with potions and wrapped you up nicely. You can count yourself glad you were out – I can attest to the fact that such proceedings are less fun than it sounds," he told him, grimacing as the last bit of information triggered some unwanted memories. "Well, the healer will swing by before noon to check in on us all, we'll see, then."

"We'll see," Harry sighed, still looking at his wing. "So much for me ever blending in with humans. Malfoy will have his day made if he sees me like that, provided they even let me back into Hogwarts."

"One step after the other, Harry. First, you got to get better. And I guess the first step towards this goal is that we leave, so Hermione can start with that rewarding stuff she got in mind," Sirius replied, smiling from ear to ear as he rose to his feet, fumbling with his cane.

Harry stared at him with eyes so narrow that they were almost closed for a few seconds before he finally replied with a growl in his voice.

"Hermione, be a dear and hand me that candle from the night stand, would you?"

Giggling like children, Sophie and Sirius rushed - or hobbled, in Sirius' case - out of the room, leaving Harry in Hermione's care.

"Sometimes it feels like they are the children, and we're watching them, isn't it," Hermione sighed, immediately regretting her statement when she noticed Harry's reaction to that painful topic.

"Can you imagine what a kid of them would be like? Especially if Sirius really goes along with that project he's working on with the twins," Harry replied after a defeated sigh.

"Project?"

"Haven't I told you, yet?" Harry asked unnecessarily, and hurried to explain. "You know they always wanted to open their own joke shop, but lacked the money, right?"

"Didn't they win a pretty sum with those bets on the world cup?"

"In theory, but Bagman never paid out. In the end, they simply placed it as a new bet on me winning the Triwizard Cup."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, that did hurt them. Still, they saw it as simply a roadblock, and you know they never give up. Now here's the kicker - when I told Sirius about them, their pranks and their dream, over the stay at Privet Drive, he actually went and contacted them. He's been working with them on finding a suitable place, materials, and so on, funding most of it," Harry explained.

Hermione knew him too well to not pick up on the subtle lines between what he had said. "Most?" she asked pointedly, one of her eyebrows raised at Harry, a smirk on her face.

"Well," Harry replied evasively. "My money isn't doing any good in Gringotts, and Sirius agrees that they could turn out a great investment. It is their dream, and they are good at this stuff. And it's not as if we were going all out, only a thousand Galleons, each," he tried to talk himself out of her unyielding stare.

"You know that there's only one possible answer from me to that, right?" Hermione said, and Harry nodded, sadly.

His expression became one of surprise when she grabbed his head and kissed him hard enough to make his wound protest.

"Doing things like that for your friends is why I love you so much," Hermione said with a brilliant smile plastered over her face. Harry gaping at her made her realize the bomb she just dropped on him.

"But, but," he stammered, trying to come up with something to mope about. Doubling down, she decided to make it unmistakeably clear.

"Yes, I love you, you winged dolt. I do, and I always will. Nothing will change this," she spoke as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

_**ooOOoo**_

"Someone's coming, three people," Harry interrupted Hermione, seconds before the actual knock at the door

"Are you decent?" Sophie's voice rang out.

"At least I'm a decent person, unlike others," Harry grumbled under his breath, before calling out for her to enter.

"Hey, guys. Doctor is here. Sirius is trying to get some breakfast, so I'm your sole chaperone," Sophie greeted them giddily as she waltzed in.

In her wake, Victor and an elderly man entered. Harry didn't know him, but he reeked of being a healer, in more than one sense. Not only was the behaviour a dead give-away, but the bag Victor was carrying reeked of healing potions, in the literal sense. At least to Harry.

"Hello, Harry. Big show. Yoh know how to draw a crowd," Victor greeted them while the man had started to cast spells at Harry, only briefly nodding at them before he started.

"Are they still there?" Hermione asked, looking worried.

"There? Who? What are you talking about?" Harry inquired, while trying to evade the annoyingly prodding wand as good as he could.

"Townspeople. They were quite agitated and followed us back here last night," Hermione explained. "Frankly, I'm amazed they're still here."

"Nod still," Viktor replied, his thick accent telling that he'd been speaking a lot of Bulgarian, recently. "Most vent home, but now, more and more are returning."

"With torches and pitchforks, eh?" Harry said with a huff, glaring at the healer waving the wand over his face. Sophie couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image.

"No, none of that! Still, the Huntsmen are guarding the house, just to be sure there's no weird one," Viktor chuckled.

"Weird is my job," Harry replied, ignoring the healer saying something to him. It#s not as if he would understand a single word of what the man said.

"Cough," Viktor said. When Harry only stared at him, he explained his intent a bit better. "The healer wants yoh to cough, Harry."

Rolling his eyes, Harry complied. Hermione had meanwhile found something to ask about.

"Huntsmen? Who are they?"

Viktor looked initially surprised by that question. "Our... How do yoh call them in Britain? Aurors!" he replied after finding his bearings and the right words. "For hundreds of years, their main job is to hunt dangerous creatures and occasional criminals, so the name stuck at some point in time. Muggles even used a variant of one story about them, but they got it wrong. The grandma was actually a werewolf, the girl mixed up the dates and came on a wrong day and the luckily nearby huntsman who saved her wore the red hood. That's their uniform, green robes, but red hoods."

"Oh," Hermione replied, her face contorted in a hilarious mix of disgust, wonder and sadness as she absorbed that childhood-shattering piece of info.

"That's quite interesting, I think. Are there more fairy-tales that are overlapping with true events?" Sophie inquired.

"Yes, they got a lot wrong, like Saint George killing dragons when he actually raised them and vos watched catching an escaped one, or Dracula being a Vampire," Victor chuckled.

"Wasn't he?" Hermione and Sophie asked in unison. "I read the book, and some books in Hogwarts also say he was," Hermione insisted.

Viktor was appalled by that reply. "In Hogwarts, too? Dey should throw dat book away! No, Vlad Tepés vos a Draculea - a Dragon Knight!" he exclaimed, his accent getting even thicker when he was enraged.

"Wait! Wasn't that what the people called me? My memory is a bit fuzzy," Harry interrupted, his voice drowning out a request of the healer.

"You called Harry that, as well - I heard you," Hermione confronted Viktor, drowning out the healer for a second time.

"I did. He looks like one. At least like the Tepés line of dem was supposed to have had wings, but dey never spat fire, I think," Viktor retorted. "Maybe it would be better if I told yoh about the Draculeas," he offered when he got interrupted.

The healer had been ignored for too long. After his multiple attempts to communicate with Harry, or Viktor, had failed during the heated end part of their talk, he reached out to pinch Harry's nose and then simply poured his potion flask into Harry's open mouth. Calmly, he started cleaning up as if that was completely normal procedure, while Harry still sputtered and protested, Hermione stared, and Sophie was trying hard to suppress her laughter.

Packing his bag in a precise and efficient manner, he spoke a few words to Viktor, Harry's glare following his every move. "Honestly I never thought I would ever miss Madame Pomfrey's bedside manners," he grumbled, making Hermione bite her lips to prevent a laugh.

"He's a grumpy one, but good," Viktor chuckled. "He told me he estimates yor wounds will take a week to fully heal - which is surprisingly fast considering the source," he relayed the information given to him. "But something is bothering him about yor scar on the head," he explained tapping his own forehead to specify.

"That's the one I got as a child, when Voldemort tried to kill me," Harry replied. Viktor translated for the healer, but the man only shook his head, vigorously, talking in a very serious manner that raised Harry's hackles. Hermione reacted the same, and he could smell Viktor becoming uneasy, too.

"What is it," Hermione demanded before Harry could. He almost smiled when he realized how protective of him she had become.

"He insists it is not just a scar. He can't really pinpoint it, but says it is - vot's the word - oozing? It is very full of dark magic and something else. He says he needs to report the Ministry to have them check on it," Viktor explained.

"I don't want that!" Harry called out, hissing sharply when his ribs and his wing protested against him sitting up so quickly. "It's been checked over again and again, and should be left in peace. Tell him that!"

"Harry, do you think that's wise?" Sophie interrupted. "You know, these people seem to know what they do, and if they think they need to have a look at it, it might be wise to let them," she proposed.

"I know what it is, it is a scar from when Voldemort tried to kill me, nothing more," Harry insisted hotly.

"And who told you that?" Sophie followed up with another question. "Dumbledore?" she probed after Harry didn't reply immediately. "Has anyone ever looked at it?" was her next question after another significant silence.

"Pomfrey probably has, but..." Hermione tried to argue, stopping when she realized that this didn't really help their point along.

"He insists, it' mandatory to report such a thing. Actually, this wouldn't change a thing if you want to not meet the Ministry, Harry," Viktor spoke up. "We already got an owl about a visit - the Minister and the Huntsmaster are coming to see yoh," he told Harry with a broad grin that intensified when Harry dropped back on his pillow with a harsh expletive. Viktor stopped grinning when the healer prodded him and babbled something.

"I'll be back in a minute, he always wants me to carry his bag for him," he spoke as he picked up the bag, and followed the old healer to the door

"Could you fetch the others on your way back?" Hermione suggested. "So you don't have to tell your story, twice."

"Wot story? Oh, the Draculeas, right!"

"You'll escort the doctor to the fireplace, and I'll get them," Sophie spoke up, almost shoving Viktor out of the room, closing the door after her. The moment it closed, Hermione's hand hit Harry's shoulder.

"Oy! What's that for!"

"For almost making me laugh at the doctor! That would have been so rude!"

"He wasn't the politest, neither."

"You're missing the point!"

"You didn't," Harry lamented, rubbing his shoulder theatrically.

Hermione rolled her eyes when he did that. "You seriously try to score pity points, pretending little me had hurt you? After slapping those werewolves around like rag dolls, you lost that privilege," she spoke with a smirk that would have made Snape proud. A second later, both of them were laughing happily.

_**ooOOoo**_

"I love seeing you in high spirits," Sophie exclaimed when she entered Harry's room, holding out the door for her hobbling fiancé.

"Harry's probably high on these brews," Henry spoke with a wide grin, entering behind Sirius. "Margret's still out, cold, from that stuff the doc gave her, so we'll have to excuse her for the time being."

"How is she?" Hermione asked, while Sirius started conjuring up seats for everyone.

"Getting better. Usually, all you can do for a concussion is time and stuff to ease the symptoms, but these potions do actively mend the damage, I'm told. Instead of weeks, we are looking at a couple of days! Amazing, I say!"

"Would be even faster if she was magical," Sirius commented as he indicated Henry to sit on the finished chair. "On the other hand, some other potions work even better on Muggles. Innate magic is a fickle thing and can resist healing magic, just like any other spell cast on you. Like it does in Harry's case, for example. Powerful wizards are the worst patients, a nurse once told me in private," he told with a wink. "That's why healers are rare. You need talent to trick the patient's magic into helping, you can't force it to accept healing. Anyway, we were promised a story!" he quickly continued, covering his change of topics before Sophie got wind of it.

"I know, but Viktor is not yet back, so we're stuck waiting," Hermione said.

"Don't know what held him up, it's been almost fifteen minutes," Sophie added.

"He's coming, I can hear three people approaching," Harry said, settling the question. Everybody was looking expectantly at the door, waiting for it to open. When it finally did, the visitors were not the expected ones. Viktor was followed by three men, a chubby man in green suit and a big gold chain which immediately made Harry suspect he was some kind of official, probably the Minister. The next man was slender man with hollow eyes and purple robes, with greasy hair not unlike Snape's, and a lingering smell of potions lab around him. The fourth man wore green robes, but with a red hood currently lying limp over his shoulders. His presence almost instantly put Harry on high alert. The way he moved, a casual grace and efficiency, screamed 'predator' to Harry's senses. The fact that the man walked without any noise, making no visible effort, and immediately noticed Harry watching him, re-enforced that feeling.

"Please excuse the sudden change of plans," Viktor spoke, "dey were already waiting downstairs for the healer to finish."

"Please stay seated," the older man in purple spoke as he entered the room. "I've been informed you all have been hurt, but are on the way to full recuperation. In the name of my country and people, I want to apologize for the events of this evening. I'm Minister Inakov, and this is Huntsmaster Sekely," he said in a deep voice, while the red-hooded man made a slight nod in their direction.

"We had to keep you waiting a bit after convening with Healer Rudnik, waiting for Master Sula to arrive, he is the leading expert for dark arts in our employ," the Minister explained, introducing the last member of his entourage.

"Am I under arrest?" Harry asked right away, not beating around the bush. The Minister's reaction was a thoroughly confused stammer.

"What? No! Why would we?"

"I believe the young Mister Potter is asking if we consider him a dark creature or not," the Huntsmaster said in a calm voice. Harry had to concede the fact that he was impressed by how the man had shown not the slightest hint of surprise when he had asked that unexpected question, but simply had solved the puzzle.

"Oh! You certainly are a direct man, Mister Potter. To answer your question, no, not at all. Don't worry, this isn't a such a situation. It's more of a political visit, and the offer of a deal I hope you can't refuse," the Minister chuckled, trying to recover from his blunder.

"Deal? I only used_ lumos_ spells! And Harry was trying to save my parents. This must fall under reasonable use!" Hermione protested.

The Minister opened his mouth to retort, closed it, and opened it again, without saying anything. Finally, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head. "This must be a translation issue, I've no idea what you are talking about, Miss. What kind of use?"

"Reasonable use, the exception from the under-age Magic ban," Hermione argued.

"Oh! That thing," the Minister said happily, waving her off. "We don't have such a silly law. Children are watched over by their parents and teachers, and are taught to behave. We never saw fit to regulate that beyond the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy."

"So it's about the men I killed last night," Harry killed the developing mood.

The Minister stared at Harry in the same confused manner he had worn basically ever since this talk moved past the introduction. Again, it ended with a sigh and sad shake of his head. "Mister Potter, your actions of last night have been thoroughly reviewed and investigated, and the Ministry of Bulgaria officially declares all your actions lawful. This was a definite life or death situation, and your use of force was well within the legal limits," he declared in a very official tone. "Furthermore, the Ministry wishes to express their regrets and apologize for that event happening, in the first place," he continues, now addressing the whole room.

"We certainly do not blame your country or people for this," Sirius replied as the first of them.

"If anyone, then we are to blame, we shouldn't just have gone off on ourselves, not knowing anything about the country. Werewolves or muggers, it was a recipe for disaster, and I'm sorry for the trouble we've caused," Henry said from his spot near the window.

"Mister Granger," the man in purple robes spoke up. "In a way, you and your group have done us a great favour. This particular pack has been roaming the country for the best part of the year. Our Huntsmen have barely managed to keep them away from the Muggle centres, but they had caused at least 15 casualties we know of until today. Worse, at least 8 persons, all Muggles, got injured, but have survived their attacks."

Now it was Henry's turn to look confused. "You call that worse?"

"I understand your confusion. But, dead people don't suffer no longer, and the infection is a life-long curse. These people are forced to let their friends and families believe they are dead, to leave their lives behind, and deal with the effects of the curse for the rest of their lives. More than one condemned us for not letting them die," the man replied sadly.

"So I..." Henry gasped, instinctively reaching for his bandaged side.

The man in purple immediately raised his arms in a pacifying gesture. "I doubt so, Mr. Granger. Your wounds were only scratches, and quite shallow. At most, you will feel restless at full moons, and get more fond of meat in your diet. Healer Rudnik said he is quite sure you did not get infected. And our young friend here should be completely immune, as far as we know."

"I see. One more question. I was under the impression wounds could be healed easily with magic, why are we just patched up like this?"

"Sadly, the curse also interferes with healing. We can close them faster than natural healing, but I'm afraid it will take time. A week, at least."

"If it is an infection, maybe it can be cured," Sophie interrupted suddenly, voicing what had occurred to her. "Maybe there is help for the poor people afflicted with this illness."

"Many of our most talented healers and potion masters have tried, so far with nothing to show for except for the wolfsbane potion, Miss," the purple robed man replied in a strained tone.

"I thought more along the lines of scientific analysis. Identification, extraction, analysis. There might be an easy way to fight it, maybe a way to immunize," Sophie explained to the now very confused man.

"You mean Muggle methods? How could you possibly study a magical disease?"

Sophie huffed and rolled her eyes. "Well, if it worked on him, it might as well work for a werewolf," she snapped, pointing at Harry. "I could ask Remus is he's willing to play guinea pig."

"Under full protective gear, of course, I'm not stupid," she added, when she felt all eyes resting on her, misrepresenting the feelings behind some of those.

"Before we continue, I propose that Master Sula has a look at Mister Potter's scar. It would be a shame to waste his precious time after we had to call him into this meeting," Huntsmaster Sekely spoke up.

"That's a surprisingly good idea," the man in question spoke up. "Mister Potter, would you mind if I cast some spells on you? Nothing invasive, just detection. You won't feel a thing, and it won't harm you, nor anyone else," he continued.

"If you have to," Harry replied, only barely refraining from frowning at the man who slowly approached him, drawing his wand after getting permission. To be fair, the following sequence of wand movements and long-winded complicated words that resembled Latin, but only barely, was impressive, even to him. Hermione was positively giddy at what she saw, but Harry was more jostled by the fact of how powerful the magic was. He could feel a kind of static building up as the man went to work, overcoming the resistance to magic that Harry usually posed with something resembling ease. It was almost unsettling to experience that kind of power from that unremarkable man.

Before Harry could follow that quite insulting train of thought deeper, he could feel the spells taking hold on something in his forehead. It wasn't an actual feeling, more of a pull in his mind, like a piece of rubber getting pulled taut, along with a dark green hue that seemed to spread out over his forehead. Before the pull could become uncomfortable, it was gone, along with the static, and the green glow.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Sirius' voice was the first to break the silence.

"What was what?" Sophie demanded, echoed by a weaker demand voiced by Henry.

"There was a black mist seeping out of the scar while he cast the spell. You said you wouldn't do anything invasive!" she accused the Potions Master.

"I apologize, but I was forced to change my approach due to the resistance Mister Potter posed to my detection spells. Anyway, I've got an answer, although it isn't the one we hoped for," the man replied, looking a bit upset.

"To be frank, I can say that there is definitely something wrong with it, but I will need to share this memory with a collegue," he said, with Huntsmaster Sekely briefly smirking behimd him.

"So you got no idea, but think it is bad?" Sirius dug deeper.

"Well, I do have a theory, but I would rather withhold it until I confer with someone with more experience in this field," the man tried to weasel out of an answer.

"With much more experience," Huntsmaster Sekely added. "There isn't anyone who knows more about obscure magic than this one, I guarantee."

Hermione and Harry were tempted to challenge that with bringing Dumbledore into play, but didn't get the chance to do so.

"Right. Let's agree to postpone this topic until we have his input," Minister Ivankov tried to take command of the conversation, briefly glaring at his companions, before addressing Harry directly.

"Mister Potter, now that these concerns are out of the way, maybe we could start this talk over, and return to the primary reason for our visit? First and foremost, are you familiar with the history of this country? Especially the part concerning the Draculeas?"

"We know about the book, and we learned about Vampires in school," Harry replied dryly. "But Viktor already hinted that this was not quite right."

The Minister started chuckling as he heard this, and soon was in a deep belly laugh. "I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but this is a classic misunderstanding. The character of Vlad Tépes was more than slightly misrepresented in that book. He wasn't a vampire, neither, but a Draculea, a Dragon Knight."

"We were already told that much," Harry replied, "but haven't yet gotten around to the explanation of that term."

"I should explain about them, then, if you don't mind. It has been a long day, but it is the core reason of our presence here," Minister Inakov insisted.

"Oh, we don't mind, at all, please proceed, Minister," Hermione spoke for the group. Sophie smirked, but she was on the edge of her seat, as well.

"The Draculeas, which means 'Sons of Dragons' were a knightly order, protectors of the people against dark, and a part of the Huntsmen. The Huntsmen are an old organization, going back so long that we don't know when they were founded. Our Huntsmen are the continuation of this, and yes, Red Riding Hood goes back on them, but the red hood was worn by the huntsman," the Minister explained, anticipating the question expertly.

"By the nature of their job, Huntsmen often interacted with Muggles, and also had quite a few in their ranks, as well as werewolves fighting for revenge. The Draculeas were something that resulted from a very skilled potion master offering to improve the Muggle's combat power by giving them them the strength of a Dragon, in exchange for a pardon, more than thousand years ago. He managed to turn three volunteer Muggle men into half-dragons, but was killed by a basilisk – at least that's what the legend says - before he could turn more. Of course, he left only few notes, all encrypted. What the new Draculeas knew, though, was that their blood would be able to turn others, as that was done by their creator. Sadly, it turned out that only one in eight survived the blood transfer, but these would turn into the same kind of Dracul as their donor. Odds were better if people were related, up to one in three, in some cases. The Tépes family was one of these lucky cases, and always had some volunteers. Due to the amassed influence, they became powerful nobles over time."

"Wasn't Vlad Tepes Romanian?" Hermione asked.

"No, his late descendant of the same name featured in the book was. But the wizard sides of our nations are almost like one country, anyway. And the Huntsmen are a joined force between us, for practical reasons."

"You know, the problems in transferring just scream 'wrong blood type transfusion' to me," Sophie quipped.

"Sophie!" Henry barked as he tried to stop her derailing the talk, again, but her comment had already piqued the interest of the Potions Master.

"Blood type?"

"Yes, there are basically five types of blood in humans, some common, some rare. If you mix them, they will react badly. Should be easily avoidable if you filter the blood. Anyway, you had more than one kind of half-dragons, I gather from the 'Lines' you are mentioning?"

The Minister and the Huntsmaster were staring at Sophie in an almost slack-jawed manner, while Potions Master Sula was smiling softly. "I think we definitely have to talk, later, Miss..." he said, trailing off.

"Doctor Sophie Alistair," she replied with a smile. "Soon, Black," Sirius added his two Knuts.

"Doc.. Oh! You're a Muggle healer! How interesting. We never had the chance to talk openly to one of your profession," Master Sula replied with no small amount of suddenly found appreciation. "We definitely will need to talk at a later point of time. And yes, there were three, actually two usable. The first person turned was more lizard than man. The second transformed into something akin to Mister Potter, although he never was able to breathe fire, as far as we know, which is a very interesting feat in young Mister Potter's physiology. The third man was turned by injecting a jug of the second man's blood into his veins, but he turned out different, stronger, but with no wings. After that, the lines kept stable, but the line of the first man was never continued," he started to talk in a way that sounded like people discussing their trade, a stark contrast to how he had acted before, only stopping as a sharp glare from the Minister silenced him.

"That practice was continued for centuries, and the Draculeas were our elite troops among the Huntsmen, especially the winged ones, who could hunt down creatures most efficiently. Vlad Tepés was extremely good at this, and was famous because of it. Sadly, we only ever had few Draculeas. For some reason, they could only turn others for a short time after their turning, and never sired offspring, so they never grew numerous. A handful, at the height of their time, and then the last one failed to find any suitable candidates before his blood went stale," the Minister tried to take over, again, and once more, failing.

"Makes sense, I figured the cells would die off after some time, once Harry was fully changed," Sophie spoke up, again, once more taking command of the conversation. "It might be a good idea to filter the active components out of the blood, maybe with a modified dialysis machine, and freeze them for later use. That would also eliminate the problem of blood type intolerance, come to think of it," she proposed in a stream of conscience, blurting out what came to her mind.

"I don't exactly know what you are talking about, but the process you are proposing sounds promising," Master Sula replied, "Please, elaborate."

"No, this is of utmost importance," he insisted when the Minister tried to shush them to get back to his point. "Please, Doctor Alistair," he said, trying to ignore the daggers the Minister glared at him.

"Well," Sophie continued," it isn't exactly the blood that makes the change, but specialized carrier cells. Are you accustomed with the concept of micro-organisms?"

"I've read about that concept in Muggle literature, but I find myself having problems with the details of it. Especially since they seem to be helpful and harming, both," Master Sula conceded with a charming smile.

"A working model would be to think of them as tiny animals, small enough to fit a million on the point of a needle. In this special case, they are working tirelessly to multiply, changing their host into what you call a Draculea as a by-product. Once the host is fully converted, they can't reproduce anymore, and die off," Sophie tried to explain in simple words.

"I find myself believing that your prior assessment was correct. This sounds very similar to what we know to happen to the bodies of Vampires and Werewolves," Master Sula replied. "Apart from the fact that their curse does not die off, and does infect others."

Sophie tilted her head in thought. "These organisms seem to have different reproductive processes, then. In case of a Vampire, I'd not be surprised if they consume blood, causing the need to drink it," she theorized.

"Very much possible. Anyway, you proposed you might be able to create a concentrate of the changing agent? Distilling it into something that is devoid of harmful side-effects?" The Potion Master asked, almost excited at the prospects.

"That is the plan. I guess we should freeze them in batches, so we reduce thawing losses. Given how infectious they are, I believe we could get a couple dozen doses from him," Sophie mused. "And of everyone else, as well, and then there is the natural reproduction with turned females."

"Was that ever tried, before?" Hermione joined in, blushing slightly when Sophie shot her a knowing grin in reply.

"Good question, Miss. To be honest, due to dangers, bad chances of success, and the general times, giving it to a female was seen as waste. It wasn't even given to Wizards, only Muggles, for Wizards were too valuable, as well," the Potions Master replied.

"But these notions are a thing of the past, Miss," the Minister stepped in, the Potions Master almost withering under the Minister's intense glare. The Huntsmaster, who had stoically listened to everything said until then, sported a slight smile when Master Sula took a step aside.

"This is where our offer comes into play," the Minister said, taking a deep breath before he turned towards Harry. "Mister Potter, we would ask your help to found new line of Draculeas," he proclaimed, immediately catching up to the frown that these words brought to Harry's face. "You don't seem too thrilled of that."

"No, I ain't," Harry replied with a frown. "Subjecting people to this curse is nothing I'd support."

"Mister Potter, you seem to be mistaken. We aren't subjecting, but only enabling. Since last night, I have been approached by no less than fifteen Huntsmen, asking to be the first who would be allowed to try at being turned, and that was while everyone had to face the odds of dying in the process. If what Miss Alastair proposed turns out to be true, we would face a veritable avalanche of volunteers," Huntsmaster Sekely informed Harry.

"You do not know the role the Draculeas played in our society, but most people heard about the last ones from their grandfathers, the great deeds they did for our people. They are heroes, a notional symbol, and the change is considered a honour and gift. We will be able to create a new race, a true population, a strong population, allowing the healthiest and fittest people, men and women, Magical or Muggle, to be turned, and they will be the cornerstone of a new era of peace in our countries, and maybe the world," he said, for the first time showing passion.

"And there could be a place for you, here, with the Huntsmen. A place among people like you, a task, something to live for. And it would be your legacy. You would be father to a whole race!"

"Indeed. But you don't have to decide right now," the Minister interrupted hastily, visibly afraid that his college would try to force Harry into a corner and pin him down on an answer. " You would be welcome here, Mister Potter. We would award you citizenship, and a place to live. There is a small hunting seat nearby one of our bigger settlements, in the Rhodopian mountains, which I believe you would find more than adequate. It is beautiful there. Your family would be welcome, as well, and Miss Alastair, we would love to have you supervising that endeavour. Whatever the cost, we will finance it. But look, we already have claimed too much of your precious time. We will leave now. Discuss, make up your mind, and most important, recover. We will be in touch, once you have recovered from your injuries," he spoke, making a strategic retreat, the Krums escorting them out of the room.

Hermione didn't need to wait for the discussion to know what Harry would say. Huntsmaster Sekely, knowingly or by accident, had offered Harry everything he ever wanted. A home, a position to help people, a family of sorts. A place where he could be one of many. The last weeks, Harry had become more and more preoccupied with the burden of being the only one of his kind, a lone freak of nature, deprived of many things others would enjoy naturally. Harry might not know it yet, but she knew he already had made the decision.

_**ooOOoo**_

There hadn't been much talk about the topic for the rest of the day. While the offer hung above everything, the day was devoted to recuperation. Sirius and her parents had retired for quite some time after lunch. Harry had been adamant to take that meal with them in the dining room, but after that exertion, he was just as knackered as the others. They almost had to carry him back up to his room.

Hermione tried to take her mind of the proposal, and the possible consequences, but it kept on bugging her. She tried to retire early, but all it did for her was more time to toss and turn, creating scenarios, each worse than the one she thought up, before.

When dawn approached, Hermione was standing in front of Harry's door. Even though she had been planning this for the last five hours, she still took almost five minutes for her to find the courage to carry on with her plan. Finally, she turned the knob, quietly pushing the door open.

Walking into his room, Hermione smiled. Harry had stirred, but he kept on sleeping. It was a strange thing she noticed during their naps at Hogwarts. While he used to have a very light sleep, earlier, he now slept like a rock. As long as he wasn't disturbed too much, he would sleep on, no matter what happened. In a way, it made sense that an alpha predator sleeps without fear. He only murmured something in his sleep while she stepped closer and dropped her robes to the ground. Carefully, she slid under the blanket, snuggling into his arms.

Out of instinct, Harry pulled her closer. Only moments later, he partially wrapped his wing around her, as well. To Hermione, it was weird to feel the wing against her skin. It was leathery, but soft. She had expected it to feel cold, but it was warm to the touch.

Against her earlier fears, Hermione felt right at home there, as she laid on his shoulder, her leg entangled with his as she spooned against him.

Her fingers were playing with his chest, she wondered how it must be like to have wings like that. It seemed strange that Harry could lie on his back, having them. But the way they folded against his back, he probably could lie any way he wanted to. She chuckled as she realized that he probably could do the full bat thing, wrapping himself, and even her, in his wings if he wanted to. Hermione found that all this wasn't as scary as she thought it might be.

Emboldened by that realization, Hermione started to gingerly let her fingers slide across his chest, to his shoulder, and finally, down to his arm. Taking a last deep breath, she made the decision she had been postponing all day.

_**ooOOoo**_

Hermione woke early, as always. The sunlight was almost painful to her as it shone through the eastern window, straight into her face. Much to her surprise, neither she nor Harry had moved one inch from the position they fell asleep in. Her mouth felt dry, and she was feeling more than a bit light-headed. Actually, the very moment she moved, she felt sick.

Slowly, careful not to jostle Harry, she removed herself from his embrace and rolled out of bed. She had to fight a bout of vertigo when her feet hit the floor. Shaking her head, she donned her robes as quickly as she was able to. Her first stop was the loo. She didn't get sick, but even some water later, the world was still spinning. Figuring she might simply be exhausted and in need of some food, she made her way downstairs with a plan to raid the pantry.

"Hello, Hermione," Henry said as Hermione padded into the kitchen.

She jumped in shock when she found her father sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in his hands.

"I heard you walking by our door," he said, sipping his cup, while Hermione leaned against the table. Her head was spinning as she tried to put things together, and her legs didn't respond too well, anymore.

"Hardest decision I ever made, not to stop you," he admitted, staring out of the window, not noticing how she grabbed the back of a chair to hold herself upright.

"But you are almost an adult, and after we went down the supportive route, getting you on the pill and everything, I could hardly go in and drag you out there," he spoke with a dry laugh. "Harry loves you, and you love him, you are in this for the long run, so I guess it's fine with me," he argued aloud, more to his benefit than to explain himself. "Still, I couldn't go back to sleep, and certainly didn't want to stay up and listen in, so I went and got me a book," he said. "Want a cup of coffee, too?" he asked over another sip, but set down his cup, quickly, when he finally looked up and noticed Hermione's feverish face. Immediately, he stood and rushed over, feeling her forehead for temperature.

"You're burning! What happened? Do you feel sick?" he gasped. Hermione's reply was to faint in his arms.

With a brisk motion, he had her cradled in his arms, ready to carry her up into her room.

As quick as he could without bumping her into the door, he walked out of the kitchen with his burden, heading for the stairs. Faster than he thought it would have been possible, he had her in her room, depositing her in her bed and turning her nightstand lamp on. For a short moment, her feverish expression made him hesitate, stroking her forehead helplessly before he snapped out of it.

Medical training kicking in, he felt her pulse, before prying one of her eyes open to check her pupil reflex, his own eyes widening in shock when he did so. In a daze, he stood up and walked a few paces, both hands running through his hair as he shook his head, before turning to face his daughter lying before him. In a vain hope, he checked her eyes again, but with the same result. On a whim, he checked her arms, and found a puncture mark.

"You stupid thing," he sighed in resignation. "You couldn't just sleep with him like any other girl, could you?"

**AN:**

Happy Christmas/Hanukkah/Yule/Holidays/whatever to all of you.

And a big thank you to embi and Alix for helping me out with this stuff.

The last two months have been quite busy here, I'm (mostly) done with the stable build, I survived a food poisoning, and many other things. Still I kept on writing, and since I didn't want to split this chapter into two, I figured I'd make it a double feature.


End file.
